


The Liminal Places

by nw019



Category: Ammonite (2020)
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Romance, Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-30
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-16 03:28:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 22,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29075601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nw019/pseuds/nw019
Summary: An imagining of what happened after the movie finished, a fluffy dive into the minds and relationship between our two lovely protagonists. Will Charlotte and Mary make amends? Yes, of course they will! & how will their life pan out afterwards?
Relationships: Mary Anning/Charlotte Murchison
Comments: 50
Kudos: 69





	1. Separations & reconciliations

Author's notes: Like a lot of people, this movie moved me and I felt a huge need for closure after watching it!! I find the characters and their relationship & chemistry fascinating & wanted to delve into their brains a bit. Oh and a fair bit of sexually explicit content so if that is not your thing maybe don't read ;-) Enjoy & your comments are welcome! xo

\- - -

Mary and Charlotte stared at each other across the glass case housing the ichthyosaurus for what seems like eternity. It had a surreal quality to it, two women, separated by this glass case. Separated also by class, as seen through their starkly different garments, their cleanliness and wear and tear of their physical bodies. Yet they were also vastly similar in ways that they had come to know intimately.

They stared at each other for the longest while, a wave of emotions arising and descending through them both. For Mary, the first thing that arose was anger. That sting of rage at being so thoroughly misunderstood, by someone she cared for so deeply. Someone she thought understood her, knew her, had lived in and even become a part of her world - to suggest she throw it all away like a worn cloth. It made her feel like one. It stung her with shame to feel so disparaged. She knew her existence was hard work, all toil with few jewels or fine things. In that moment when Charlotte had suggested as such, it only seemed to confirm some of Mary's dark yet unspoken suspicions. What did Charlotte see in her, but a passing amusement? What could Mary possibly offer her, a woman of her class and stature? If Charlotte could not understand or respect the basic condition of her existence, what future could they have together. It was a profound betrayal from the first person she had let in in the longest time.

All of this and more had come to the fore instantly in that moment in Charlotte's spare room, and as was typical for Mary, it had overwhelmed and froze her. She was not able to process her emotions freely nor articulate what bothered her. Yet she had done her best, and fled after that.

Seeing Charlotte standing there before her brought it all to the surface instantaneously for Mary. But something happened. Charlotte stayed, standing there. Firm. Not needing anything of her. Not grasping or claiming. Gazing at her with her eternally deep blue eyes, which spoke volumes as they always have to Mary. There was sadness and regret in those eyes, there was love, care and concern as well as a deep wounding from their last encounter. Mary had become intimately familiar with that deep gaze, could read the stories and meanings that lay there like an open book in front of her. And she was especially weak to them. In those moments of cascading eternity, standing there opposite each other across the ichthyosaurus, the next thing Mary felt was gratitude.

Gratitude that Charlotte knew she would be there. That she had come to find her. Charlotte had this ability to reach out to her in a way others hardly dared, and it worked. Gratitude that Charlotte had cared so much for her that she concocted the whole mad scheme to begin with - had gone so far as to prepare a room and had dresses made for Mary. A little vibration of humour passed through Mary then, and in that instant she began to soften. They connected, silently, the way they had done so many times before. In the way that was special and unique only between themselves, the secret magic of their relationship lived and breathed and rejoiced in the subtleties of their interactions.

Charlotte was patient. She knew Mary had to be the one to reach out next, or she might risk scaring her off. Charlotte had been so impatient the other day, to see Mary and be with her again, that she had gone and messed the whole thing up. Of course, upon sober reflection she could understand how her good intentions had landed so badly and why Mary had reacted as she did. Yet she hoped to make amends, what that would look like she had no idea, but being here was the first step.

'Hello,' finally Mary spoke to her. 'Fancy bumping into you here,' the humour in her tone matched the expression in her eyes, a gentleness there that was inviting and encouraging to Charlotte.  
Charlotte slowly moved a step or two towards Mary to stand next to her, but now turned her eyes to the ichthyosaurus.  
'It's truly incredible, Mary,' she said.  
'Your father taught you well.'  
Mary was moved by this mention of her father. It suggested Charlotte had perhaps somewhat understood her emotions yesterday.  
'He did... Don't know what he would've said if he'd been here to see this.'  
'I'm sure he would have been immensely proud of you.'  
Mary looked at Charlotte. And she smiled.

They left the museum, walking outside together. There was still a stiffness between them, a tipeytoeing, a conflict seeking resolution. They did not touch and there had been little spoken between them. They stood at the side of the entrance to the museum, there was enough hustle and bustle for privacy between them. They turned to look at each other - uncertainty hung in the air between them.

'Mary-'  
'Charlotte-'  
They both started at the same time, awkwardly stepping on each other's tongues. They both politely backtracked.  
'You go,' Mary said  
'I- Well ...' Charlotte looked at her with her deep earnest. 'I wanted to apologise. For yesterday. For- for the whole thing. I did not mean to upset you so. I realise now the error of my ways, how deeply disrespectful it must have sounded to you.'  
She paused then. Mary held her gaze - a good sign. After a pause, Mary said, 'd 'you, I mean... do you realise why I was upset?'  
'I believe I do, I've been up all night turning the whole horrid affair over in my mind.' Mary noticed the paleness in her face, the redness around her eyes, and noted that she wasn't exaggerating.  
'I heard you when you said that you've got your life, in Lyme. I've been there and lived it with you. It's a hard life, but I understand now that it's what you're proud of, and that it's your home. More than this, I ask you to help me understand. And please know that everything I did, it was because I've missed you terribly in these past weeks.' Mary's heart fluttered. She softened and melted under Charlotte's gaze; the closeness of her body, her presence so open and full of compassion.  
Mary leaned forward almost imperceptibly, her head tilting closer to Charlotte.  
'I've missed you too...'  
But then Mary shook herself a bit as though to sober herself up. She was resolute to make herself understood, for there to not be a misunderstanding between them.  
'And I'm very flattered, really I am, that you have thought up this whole arrangement for me - for us. But can you understand why I can't live with you here, in London?'  
Charlotte sunk down into darkness. She wore her heart on her sleeve and it was breaking. All the emotions came to the surface, she looked down, unable to hold Mary's gaze at this perceived rejection. Tears welled in her eyes.  
'Hey-' Mary said gently, and she reached out and took Charlotte's small hands in her own, gave them a tight squeeze and a caress.  
'That doesn't mean we can't figure something else out. Right?'  
Hope re-entered Charlotte's world unexpectedly. Her eyes lifted to meet Mary's gaze, which had a lovely spark to match her wry grin.  
Charlotte smiled through her tears.  
'I would like that very much, Mary Anning.'  
The closeness between them began to be too much to bear in such a public location.  
'Now will you please come and stay, if only for the rest of the weekend?' Charlotte breathed softly, giving Mary a look the meaning of which was unmistakable.  
Mary could only manage to nod her head vaguely, swimming in her feelings.

\- -

They got back to Charlotte's house, walked past the maid and up the stairs in a silent hurry. Closed the doors and the drapes. Then they could not contain themselves any longer. The weight of tension, grief and sadness of the past day and a half lifted from their beings, they were liberated - smiling, giggling like children. They returned to the anticipation they had felt before the conflict between them, thirsty for union between them.

In the living room, Charlotte finished drawing the drapes shut and turned to look at Mary. There was unmistakable hunger in her eyes, she could be very seductive when she wanted to be. Mary smiled in anticipation, closing the last steps of distance between them and wrapping up Charlotte's small waist in her strong arms. They kissed passionately, at first light and fast but then moving towards longer, more languishing kisses. They could not get each other's garments off fast enough. These silly corsets - so restrictive! They managed to strip their outer layers off as they fell onto the couch, Charlotte straddling Mary. They ran their hands across each other's bodies, their skin on fire. There was an urgency between them, it took only moments for each to snake their hands around the other's dress and relish in what they found there. Delighting in the other's moans, they came quickly for one another, sweat dripping between them and saying each other's names.

Night had fallen. They had eaten (both had had hearty appetites), bathed and conversed generally about the happenings of the past few weeks. Mary recounted the recent fossil discoveries she had found on the beach and even spoke briefly about her mother's passing. Charlotte spoke of her daily errands and some of the characters she had met in the city but noticeably avoided mention of her husband. They read to each other by the fireplace and by the light of candles.

They changed into their nightclothes. Mary sat at the end of the bed in the spare room, a bit uncertainly. After Charlotte had finished bathing and changing she came to find her. She sat next to Mary closely, embracing her and putting her head in her shoulder. Mary, often relieved at the initiative Charlotte took, wrapped her arm around her. They breathed in together, smelling the scent of the other and leaning into the warm embrace.

Eventually they lay on the bed together, caressing each other's faces and hair and gazing into each other's eyes. After their separation, it was pure ecstasy for both of them. After the release of the afternoon, they were able to take their time. Mary began languidly running her hands down Charlotte's back, waist, thighs, stomach and brushing the sides of her breasts. Charlotte breathed and closed her eyes in pleasure. She moved her face closer to kiss Mary deeply. With this encouragement, Mary slid Charlotte's nightgown up her legs, running her hand over her bare skin, lifting it off completely. She loved the vulnerability in Charlotte's gaze, so opening yet trusting somehow. It lit a fire inside her that had been barely smouldering for too long. Pulling the gown off herself too, she moved her hand downwards to begin touching Charlotte. But Charlotte caught her hand - 'Wait,' she said.  
'What is it?'  
'... Come here,' Charlotte, still holding Mary's hand, stood up off the bed. Puzzled, Mary followed her. She opened the door leading to the master bedroom and walked her to the bed there.  
'Let's do it here.'  
Caught off guard, Mary released Charlotte's hand and started to back off a step.  
'No please, Mary,' Charlotte grabbed her hand again and pulled her closer.  
'I want you to take me here,'  
'So I can burn your memory into my skin, where it belongs here in this room. Do you understand?' she gazed at her, wanting in her eyes. She moved Mary's hand back down and began caressing herself, breathing in as she did so.  
Mary swallowed, extremely turned on by this. She understood Charlotte's meaning. They had avoided talk of her husband, Roderick. But he would return at some point. It was touching to Mary that Charlotte didn't just want to keep her locked away in a separate room. She wanted to love and be loved by Mary in the master bedroom.  
They moved onto the bed and Mary caught Charlotte's hands in her own pinned them above her head.  
'Mary...'Charlotte moaned in her ear. 'I want you,' she breathed heavily.  
'I want more of you..'  
Mary's voice caught in her throat, she was blinded with desire and could barely think.  
Into the night, distantly could be heard the muffled sounds of their pleasure.

\---

Dawn was breaking in London. The sky outside their bedroom window was slowly starting to lighten. Before long, the birds would start to sing and the workers would begin their toiling. Two lovers lay entwined, in a tangle of bed sheets and limbs and long hair.

Mary awoke suddenly. She registered the unfamiliar room and her memories came back to her - their passionate encounter the night before... She saw the light start to stream in through the window. Beside her, a familiar body. Charlotte's pale and lithe form lay breathing contentedly beside her, deep in sleep still. Snoring ever so lightly. Mary's heart skipped a beat. Her breath caught in her throat and something clutched at her chest. An iron hand, around her heart. She observed Charlotte's gentle features, her blonde hair, the rise and fall of her chest as she breathed. Mary could stay here forever, studying her lover like she studies her fossils. Though unlike the fossils, this specimen was living, breathing, bursting with life.

Yet it was a dilemma for Mary. She felt extremely vulnerable. It was not a place she'd ever been, so entwined with another, emotionally and physically. She disliked the dependence of it, feeling at someone's mercy. It made her scared. Scared of the uncertainty, of loosing Charlotte, of not being understood by her. She was turning through the situation in her mind, when, with a faint movement, Charlotte's sleepy eyes opened and gazed right back at her. A faint smile appeared on her lips, she looked quite smitten and adorable.

'Hi...' she breathed faintly. Mary was taken by surprise, and mentally packed up all her contemplations. They can wait for another time, she thought.

'Hi yourself...' she smiled back faintly. And she pulled Charlotte close to her and kissed her, slowly and gently.

They loved each other again that morning. It was like the horse had bolted and it was too late to put it back in its barn. Or a water main burst open that couldn't be fixed. What had they done to each other? They wondered, heads dizzy from their orgasms, finally getting up from bed mid-morning.

Later, they sat finally clothed next to each other, eating breakfast in silence. Spent but also subdued. Today was the day, they both knew. The day Mary would depart. They hadn't discussed their -situation- since their temporary truce the other day, their time out which allowed them to enjoy revelling in each other's company without the heaviness of all that came ahead of them. It hung on each of their minds', an impossible burden. A chain around their necks' reminding them of their powerlessness, their gender, their lack of choices and autonomy in this society. It left a bad taste in their mouths. Charlotte put down her piece of bread, discouraged. She had lost her appetite. Mary politely sipped her tea and mostly avoided eye contact. She made a half-hearted comment on the weather, that it seemed perhaps that it would rain later. Charlotte stared at her, a mix of incredulity and affection. And love, there was so much love in that gaze. Mary couldn't bear to hold eye contact. It brought back those unresolved dawn contemplations.

Charlotte seemed to be fighting an internal struggle. There was a tug of war raging, on one side she didn't want to startle or upset Mary again, yet on the other she desperately wanted some certainty, some hope to be together with her. She sat in uncharacteristic silence, until she felt she might explode. She decided she couldn't sit idly by and watch her Mary walk out of her life, again.

'Mary,' she started, trying to tow the line between being hesitant yet completely firm. She was good at this.  
'Hmm?'  
She decided to just be out with it.  
'What if I were to come back to Lyme?' she had said it steadily, with defiance and absolute will.  
'Come back?' Mary repeated, a bit distantly, turning this over in her mind's eye. 'To Lyme?'  
'Yes!' exclaimed Charlotte. 'I understand that you don't want to come live here with me, and I absolutely understand that. But what objections would you have if I were to return, soon, to Lyme?' The faintest hint of desperation was edging in, threatening to undo her persona of confidence and self-assurance.  
Mary turned away. Charlotte knew her well enough to take a deep breathe in and be patient. And not let the silence drive her to madness. So she sat with the churning butterflies in her belly and the vultures of her darkness, circling above and threatening to descend upon her. It seemed another of those eternal, never-ending moments.

Mary felt that huge rock in her chest threatening to trap her in this place of silence. But Charlotte's love for her was like a radiant light shining through a crack in a rock. Luminous, all-encompassing and undeniable. Just to be near it was to be touched. It melted her insides enough for her to be able to back down from her fortress of defenses, and walk ever so gently into this vulnerability and connection. After what seemed like the longest moment, she met Charlotte's eyes.  
'I wouldn't have any objections to that. I think I'd rather like it.' She smiled one of those rare Mary smiles, looking ten years younger.  
Charlotte squealed with delight and threw herself at Mary, unable to resist.

'Yes yes yes!' she exclaimed. This was her win for the day and she was going to take it. Everything else they would work out together, as they went.

So Mary departed for Lyme that early afternoon, but with a plan hatched between the two it was with much lighter hearts and eased minds that they were able to say their goodbyes.

End chapter 1

\----


	2. Winter in Lyme

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The story continues

Chapter 2: Winter in Lyme

Winter was always the harshest time in Lyme. With the short days and freezing nights, the darkness and harsh, biting sea winds that sweep through the coastline. There were no tourists in winter in Lyme. Even in the summer months, bathing could be freezing; there was simply nothing for tourists in the wintertime here. Seen from an outsider's perspective it could seem inhospitable. Mary liked it, though. It was harsh but it was _her_ harsh. Being born and bred of Lyme, she was worn like one of the rocks on its beaches. Moulded by the pattern of its seasons, by its violent winds and crashing waves. She was of this place, if anything she knew that, and it brought her if not a joy then a deep sense of contentment.

She reflected on this one windy afternoon as she was out fossicking along one of her regular beaches, slowly but steadily making her way across the pebbled coastline. She was in a reflective mood, today; matching the skies mottled with clouds of varying greys. It had been at least a week since any decent finds, but she was patient. Patient, persistent and unfazed. Mary had a deep stillness to her that was incredibly grounding to other people. Her work was meditative; she observed the waves crashing onto the beach, the height of the sun, the force of the winds, all while scanning rock faces and potential finds - seemingly simultaneously. It was as if she was born doing this work, so finely attuned to it she was.

In a way she had been. She had always loved her father - he taught her everything. He spoke to her not like a child but an adult. A respected equal. It had set a benchmark in her life early on that was to be bitterly disappointing later on, growing up and realising that that it was not a norm in society for women to be spoken to and treated like intellectual equals. Her father would take her out with him, wandering the beaches, and he taught he much of the basics when she was but seven or eight years old. He taught her to observe the tides, the way they changed throughout the seasons, so you wouldn't get stranded on the rocks on your way back. He taught her the places to pay attention to especially, where special finds often were - places of collision between different rock types. The liminal zones, he called them. 

"That's where the magic lives, Mary... the in-between places," he would tell her by the fireside of an evening, as he recounted to her the story of fossils and where they came from. Tales of these frozen snapshots of ancient times before humans roamed the earth. That had always stayed with Mary, that feeling in her chest when she was moved by what he said. The magic of fossils... though she had learned that magic was not always glimmering in gold, nor easy and simple. Dark clouds started rolling in to the horizon. "Better turn back..." Mary thought, as she packed up her things and made for the path towards home.

The evening passed in the steady stream of evening chores. Collect the coal, light the fire, prepare the evening meal, wash and tidy up, bathe. Eventually she sat, watching the fire, smoking her cigarette and sketching. Though it wasn't fossils she sketched. It was a long-haired, blonde woman who once lay in her bed. This was the hardest time of the day for Mary. It was better to be busy, better to have chores and toil and work to keep herself occupied. It was in the stillnesses when her loneliness came to sit with her. She could do naught but sketch this vision of loveliness and wonder if it had all been a dream.

It had been some weeks now since Mary had last seen Charlotte in London. Those few days had been a blur. She thought Charlotte had said she would come stay in Lyme, but she had heard little of her since. A few letters had been exchanged. Mary was starting to feel insecure, scared. What if Charlotte had changed her mind? In the darkness of the cold nights, her demons came out to whisper in her ears of betrayal and loss. Familiar, old stories which were all too easy for Mary to give ear to. In a sudden outburst of anger and frustration, she tore off the picture she had been scribbling, scrunched it up in her hand and threw it in the fire. Watching it smoulder into grey ashes and then disappear gave her but a momentary satisfaction, and then a feeling of regret, grief and loss. She got up and went to shiver in her bed.

The morning was fresh and crisp, with a promise of more sun than Lyme had seen in some days. Mary was sitting at the front of the shop organising her business accounts when two things happened simultaneously: the mailman came with a letter for her, and the Doctor walked in greeting her.  
"Miss Anning," he exclaimed in his customarily friendly voice.   
"I trust you have been keeping well?"  
Her attention preoccupied by the letter in her hand, she replied in a half-distracted way. "Hullo Doctor. May I ask what brings you here?" The Doctor laughed, "always straight to the point, I see! I have come here to ask if you would like to attend a dinner at my house, Miss Anning. You see, the solstice is fast approaching and it is a tradition in my village for us to gather and feast together in celebration of the shortest day of the year."  
"Why would one want to celebrate the shortest day of the year, Doctor? It's been bloody freezing of late. Not much in the mind to celebrate these days," said Mary in her characteristic demeanour. The Doctor laughed good-naturedly again. He appreciated Mary's brutal honest.  
"Well, Miss Anning. The shortest day of the year means that the days will get longer from then on. Also I thought it would be a nice way to bring some people from the village together - good company warms the soul, does it not?"  
Mary was silent, avoiding eye contact. The awkwardness hung in the air, she was clearly not overjoyed at the invitation. The Doctor acted oblivious to this awkward silence, persisting.  
"So, will you come? All the details are on this invitation." He handed her a small envelope.  
Mary hesitated. Yet she could think of no excuse to say no and was impatient for him to leave. Subconsciously perhaps she realised it might actually do her some good to be in the company of other people. It had been a very isolating winter, more so than usual without even her mother in the house.  
"Yes, okay Doctor... I will come. Thank you."   
With a final joyful exclamation of, "excellent!" the Doctor departed.

As soon as he left, Mary hastily picked up the letter. It was Charlotte's handwriting. Mary's heart skipped a beat, she brought the letter up and inhaled the scent of Charlotte's perfume. Opening it, she read:

My Darling Mary,  
How are you? How have you been faring in this freezing cold winter in Lyme? Oh how it pains me to think of you cold and alone in your cottage. I long to be there, holding you.  
I am sorry that I haven't been writing much of late - I promise I will explain everything.  
The truth is, I dearly wanted to surprise you and arrive at your door unannounced. I thought it would be terribly romantic!  
But then I remembered that you don't much like surprises, so I thought I best send you this letter first.  
By the time you receive it, I would have started on my journey and will arrive in the morning of the 26th.  
So I do hope you will be happy to receive me!  
Yours,  
Charlotte

Mary checked the date - Charlotte was due to arrive two days from now! A wave of excitement and joy came over her. She quickly reread the letter and laughed. Charlotte was quite right that she would have been flustered to find her at her appearing at her door, though the thought of it being a romantic gesture was sweet. It seemed she had reached a half compromise, writing to Mary but already arranging her transport. Most of all, Mary felt relieved. The dark voices in her head from the night before were wrong - Charlotte did still want to be with her! Mary stood up in a hurry as she had so much to do to prepare.

The morning of the 26th, Mary went to the dock. She had been up at the crack of dawn, not able to think of much else, so she had walked over early. The day was grey and cold, she had her warmest cloak on, as well as two thick shawls and her bonnet and gloves. She had worn her nicest things for Charlotte, and had a dried flower in her hand (a special one from her collection - in the winter it was difficult to find fresh ones).

Eventually the boat pulled up, the shiphands getting out to secure it to the deck. The landing was secured and the few passengers started trickling out in single file - there were not many people visiting Lyme in the winter. The passenger boats were down to one a week. Mary watched each person carefully, body tense with anticipation. Eventually, Charlotte appeared. She was clothed in one of her beautiful patterned green dresses and thick warm overgarments, too. Her shining blue eyes caught Mary's and she erupted into an enormous smile, squealing with delight and hurrying towards her.

Wordlessly, Charlotte sped towards her, put her suitcase down and hugged Mary tightly. Mary hugged back, breathing in the scent of her and releasing a sigh she didn't realise she'd been holding in. They released each other and stood staring at each other for a moment, smiles on both their faces. Mary remembered the flower. She wordlessly handed it to Charlotte, who accepted it happily, giving Mary a discreet kiss on the cheek and whispering into her ear, "That's so sweet, thank you." As she stepped back she said gleaming with humour, "so you did receive my letter, then?"  
"I did - just in the nick of time, too," Mary smirked, picked up Charlotte's suitcase and start walking.  
"Not too displeased to see me?" Charlotte teased.  
"Luckily, I was forewarned. Otherwise I'd have half a mind to send you straight back," joked Mary, putting on a stern air.  
Charlotte laughed. She was light and joyful.  
"Oh Mary, I'm so excited to see you! We've got so much to catch up on," she said, interlinking her arm with Mary's and squeezing tightly.  
Mary was silent. But Charlotte could see on her face it was a happy silence.

They made their way back to Mary's shop in the town center. Mary was unlocking the door while Charlotte chattered on, something about never having seen Lyme in the winter before and how strange it was to be so devoid of tourists. Mary knew her to do this when she was excited. As they were about to step in, someone called out and approached them.   
"Miss Anning! And who do we have here, Mrs Murchison!"   
The Doctor had appeared from around the corner and approached them, smiling broadly from ear to ear. Mary imperceptibly rolled her eyes. Charlotte smiled back at him. She had fond memories of the Doctor, he had played an important role in the series of events that came to bring her and Mary together.  
"Hello Doctor!"  
"Mrs Murchison, I can confess I did not expect to see you back again so soon! May I inquire as to what brings you to Lyme, in the middle of the winter season no less?"  
"Oh, well of course I came to see Mary," said Charlotte, unambiguous and confident. Mary glowed at this. She loved this quality about Charlotte.  
"Why yes of course..." the Doctor trailed off, as if turning something over in his mind slowly. "Well, Miss Anning," he continued, "I came to check whether you are still all good for this evening?"  
The solstice dinner - Mary realised she had not even checked the date on the invitation, so preoccupied she had been with Charlotte's arrival.  
"Oh!" she exclaimed, thinking on her toes. "Doctor, I'm very sorry but I don't think I can attend any more. Mrs Murchison has arrived very unexpectedly today at short notice-" she shot Charlotte a mock serious glance, "and I would not want her to feel neglected. So I must offer my apologies." Fantastic, she finally had an excuse not to go, she thought.  
The Doctor frowned.  
"I see. Well then I must insist that you both come. You see, Mrs Murchison, I am hosting a feast to celebrate the solstice and bring some community spirit to the town. You would be a most welcome addition. What do you say?"   
He was smart to appeal to Charlotte. "Oh that sounds lovely! Mary, we'll go won't we?"  
Mary looked back at Charlotte. She couldn't say no to her, she was resigned.  
"Okay, Doctor... we will see you tonight."

Mary locked the door behind them when they came in - the shop would be closed, today. She had scarcely turned around when she found Charlotte there, in front of her, grabbing the front of her cloak and pulling her closer, kissing her. Mary obliged, head suddenly full of nothing but the feel of her, the scent of her. They embraced, hugging each other tightly.  
"I've missed you, my Mary..." said Charlotte.  
"I've missed you too..."

They took off their cloaks, shawls and gloves and put Charlotte's suitcase upstairs. Charlotte's stood and took in Mary's familiar room. It was familiar to her, and loaded with emotions; she had remembered it often since she last departed, replaying every precious memory she had left to hold on to of Mary and their relationship together. She looked at the small shelf with few possessions. A fossil, a half burned candle. And a tiny bunch of dried yellow flowers. Charlotte recognised them as the same she had picked and bunched on the beach that day they swam together.

Mary was putting Charlotte's suitcase down on the other side of the room. She turned to see Charlotte observing the room. She had a flash of insecurity, then.  
"I know it's small... if you wanted," she hesitated, sounding stunted, "there is a spare bed in the other room."  
Charlotte snapped out of her reverie, looked at Mary and laughed faintly.  
"No Mary, of course not! I'm happy, just happy to be back in this room with you..." Mary saw she had a faint gleam of tears in her eyes.  
They ended up falling into the bed together, embracing each other tightly. They wordlessly breathed in each other's scents. Charlotte traced the lines on Mary's hands with her fingertips. They started kissing, they were hungry for each other after their separation. But Mary pulled herself back, saying, "I have breakfast prepared for you downstairs. We should go eat, I'm sure you're hungry."  
She was trying to speak normally, but Charlotte had started gently kissing her neck and collarbone, nuzzling her bare skin, so it came out breathy and uneven.  
"I want to eat you for breakfast," protested Charlotte, continuing her journeying along Mary's body.  
"Mmhmm..." Mary trailed off but reaffirmed her convictions, pulling Charlotte's face up to look her in the eyes. "Yes, and likewise. But we've barely spoken in the last few weeks." In the back of her mind, Mary was anxious to touch base with Charlotte. How long would this visit be, a few weeks, less? Would her husband be bestowing his company upon them? Was there any other news? She had been visited by jealousy, waiting and uncertain in those cold winter nights. She needed some sense of what was happening before she could allow herself to relax into that blissful embrace.  
Charlotte held her gaze, Mary ran a finger down the side of her face and down the front of her neck. Charlotte shivered.   
"Okay Mary Anning, let's go then. But we shall come back to this later," she smiled in a flirtacious way and got off the bed, pulling Mary up by the hand behind her.

Mary put a pot of tea on the hearth and gathered together the things she had prepared for a late breakfast. They ate together at the table. Charlotte didn't realise her appetite until she started eating and then was grateful for the food.  
"And tell me, how have you been? I've been worried about you, here alone in the winter..." asked Charlotte between mouthfuls, concern in her eyes.  
Mary thought of her isolation and loneliness of late. The cold nights, the leaking ceiling and the absolute silence without even her mother in the house anymore.   
"I've been fine, nothing out of the ordinary here." It was one of Mary's half truths. It wasn't in her character to complain of hardship nor show vulnerability.  
Charlotte looked at her steadily. She didn't want to press her too much. She knew Mary would express herself when she needed to.  
"What about you, how have you been Charlotte? Your letters have been thin on details." Mary said, angling for information.  
Charlotte explained excitedly that Roderick's burgeoning passion for geology was taking up most of his time (thankfully! she exclaimed), and had seen him take up an opportunity to study with a renowned geologist in a distant land across the other side of the European continent.  
"When I say renowned, Mary, he's not anywhere near as brilliant as you are-" Mary blushed lightly, "but of course I enthusiastically encouraged Roderick. And I proposed I might come stay with you for the time of his study abroad. I mean, if that's alright with you, of course... Mary?" Charlotte had been rattling on happily until she reached the end, at which point she tried to tread carefully, after the last debacle of not relating her plans to Mary.  
"For how long?" Mary replied, looking at Charlotte in a very still and neutral way that was unreadable.  
"It would be until the end of summer. 6 months." Charlotte waited but Mary was still unreadable. She started to panic slightly.  
"Of course I realise I hadn't properly asked you, so I would understand if you were to refuse, of course-" Charlotte had had to learn to be a bit more guarded. Mary had put down her food and was staring silently at her plate. Slowly, the edges of her mouth perked upwards into a smile which enveloped her whole face.  
"You know, I've been thinking lately that I'm in need of an apprentice around here..." and she took Charlotte's hand in hers. Charlotte squealed with delight and hugged her. But there was still something niggling at Mary beneath the surface that even this wonderful news had not allayed.

  
\- -  
Charlotte led Mary up into her room, upstairs. She was impatient and hungry, now, and had waited long enough. She had imagined this moment for so long, had thought of Mary's presence, her body, her nakedness, her stark and whole self vulnerable and open. Nothing else Charlotte had experienced sexually even came close to her experiences with Mary. Was it that men were particularly bad at it? Or just women extremely good? Perhaps it was more the person than the gender. With Roderick it seemed like a different thing altogether, perfunctory and deprived of connected. He had no interest nor regard for her pleasure and the whole thing was over rather soon.

It seemed obvious, when she had had her first experiences with Mary, that these two were so much more attuned to each other. Their relationship lived in the nonverbal, in the subtleties of their interactions, in the words not spoken and the weight of their silences. There were whole layers of chemistry there, too, invisible to most people. It was like this secret magic between them. When she had first come to stay with Mary and a bond was growing between them, she could feel Mary's eyes on her when she wasn't looking. It heightened her senses, made the hairs stand up on the back of her neck. What started as curiosity and care, and turned into desire and love. It had awakened something that had been dormant in Charlotte for too long. 

She sat Mary down on the bed and straddled her, kissing her hungrily. She put Mary's hands on her waist while she entwined her fingers in Mary's hair. Mary tightly gripped Charlotte's hips and pressed them downwards, enjoying the feeling of her weight on her body. They frantically loosened their clothes and pulled off their dresses, loosened their corsets so they could push their hungry hands and mouths across each other's skin. Mary moved her hands to reach between Charlotte's legs, but Charlotte stopped her, grabbing her hands and pinning them behind her, thoroughly enjoying the power of it. She pushed Mary onto her back and straddled her. Mary submitted... but she would have her turn after.

  
\- -   
Later, they lay in bed together, barely clothed. Mary was sitting up and smoking a cigarette, Charlotte had her head in Mary's lap, dozing. It seemed hedonistic and wild to Mary, closing the shop to bed her lover in the middle of the day. But she had earned a break, she thought, and there were hardly any customers at this time of year. The afternoon was passing in a rapid blur; time always seemed to go quickly when they were together. Charlotte woke up with a slight yawn. "When do we have to leave for the dinner tonight?" she asked sleepily.  
Mary had forgotten all about it. She lamented, "Do we have to go?"  
"I think it'll be fun. We can celebrate your having a new apprentice, and the days getting longer from here on. Can we go, Mary please?" she turned to look up at Mary, youthful and eager blue eyes.  
It worked, Mary softened. "Oh alright. Well we need to get dressed, then, or we'll be late."  
They arose from the bed, sheets still warm from where their bodies had laid together.

end chapter 2.

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author's notes: I can't get over how adorable these two are <3 Thanks for reading! Comments welcome xo


	3. Solstice energies

Chapter 3 - Solstice energies

After they had gotten themselves frocked up and layered for the cold, the two women made their way down the chilly cobblestone streets of Lyme. There was little light except the few lanterns that illuminated the paths, and no other people to be seen on the streets, venturing outside the shelter of their warm houses. It rarely snowed in Lyme in winter, though legends were told of it happening at rare occasions. The sea breezes kept the temperature warmer than inland, yet the humidity in the air had a way of chilling you to your bones.

They walked quickly and with determination, linked arm in arm trying to keep some warmth in their limbs. They arrived before long and were ushered inside by the Doctor, with his broad smile. If there could be anything said for the Doctor, thought Mary, it's that he is always genuine. She appreciated that quality in him, even if she was unwilling or unable to match his jovial demeanor.

It was at once a lively, comfortable scene. A roaring fire provided warmth, which they noted with gratitude as they peeled off their outer winter layers. Two gentlemen Mary recognised from the Doctor's previous recital were playing their instruments in the corner, though more for enjoyment and less for formality this time - upbeat local folk songs this time. There was a small group of people, perhaps fifteen or so, all local villagers which Mary recognised by sight if not by name as she scanned them one at a time. A few she did recognise, one of whom was walking up to greet her with a beaming face before she could escape.  
"Why, Mary! So lovely to see you!" exclaimed Elizabeth.  
"Hullo Elizabeth," said Mary faintly. Just because their relationship had improved of late did not mean that Mary was eager to jump straight into a conversation with her, but it was too late. Elizabeth then turned to Charlotte, her face lighting up.  
"Oh! And who have we here, I didn't even notice you there Mrs Murchison. My apologies, how rude of me. But how delightful it is to have you here again. To what do we owe this honour, and in such a harsh time of year?"  
Here we go, thought Mary. Elizabeth could be extremely charming when she wanted to. It was in her character to steal the stage at every occasion. Through no fault of her own she tended to overshadow and stifle Mary's more quiet and refrained personality. Perhaps this is why they never fit together well. The last time the three of them had been in the same room it had not ended well, either. Mary braced herself.  
But Charlotte had anticipated this situation and intuitively knew what to do. She moved herself ever so slightly towards Mary, away from Elizabeth, and snaked her arm through Mary's.  
"Why hello Elizabeth, lovely to see you too. It is an unusual time of the year to visit a seaside town, I'll admit. But that's alright, given I didn't come for the bathing this time."  
She smiled in a not-too-subtle way and gave Mary's arm a light squeeze. Mary beamed on the inside. She shot Charlotte a look of pride, of appreciation. Elizabeth laughed heartily. She picked up the meaning easily, being a woman inclined to romantic relationships with women herself after all.  
"Well, what can I say?" replied Elizabeth. She inclined towards them slightly and said in a whisper, "I'm very happy for you both."  
Then she began chattering away loudly, roping them into the conversation, but even Mary didn't mind too much this time.

Perhaps it was the atmosphere, with the smell of the food cooking from the next room, the warmth of the fire and the music; perhaps it was the wine, perhaps it was the happiness at her reunion with Charlotte, or the confidence that Charlotte had gifted her through her public declarations - Mary wasn't sure. But for the first time in as long as she could remember, Mary was able to pass the evening's socialising with equanimity. Perhaps some part of her even somewhat enjoyed it, though she was unlikely to admit this, to herself or anyone else. She talked with most of the townspeople there that night, even reconnecting with a few lost connections. People she barely recognised offered their condolences for her mother and shared their memories of her, and of her father and even of Mary herself when she was a little girl. She talked with them willingly. It seemed strange to her that she had forgotten these people, these connections, until a stranger came to Lyme and hosted them all for dinner. She had a passing reflection on how closed she had become, hard and fossilised like one of her rocks found on the beach. Though maybe something was shifting for her bit by bit.

The Doctor eventually clinked his wine glass and announced that dinner was served in the next room. The guests shuffled their way through and found their seats at the long, wooden table modestly decorated with cuttings from trees and burning candles. On the table were at least six different kinds of meals, the usual cooked vegetables and soup but also bread, cheese, fruits and the centrepiece - stewed rabbit.  
"I caught it myself!" exclaimed the Doctor, explaining that it was a delicacy in his hometown. He thanked the guests for bringing their company and good humour tonight and for celebrating the solstice with him, and proposed a toast - to the shortest day of the year, and to the coming sun!  
Together they sat down and shared the winter feast. There was a moment of contented silence as people ate with relish.

After the meal guests were standing, clearing their plates away and refilling their wine glasses. With the ice broken between everyone, the atmosphere was turning more festive. Tables were cleared and moved to the side of the room with other furniture. Pipes were lit and the smell of tobacco filled the room. The music restarted, playing familiar and festive folk songs from the region. Charlotte was having a ball. Roderick rarely allowed her to be in lively atmospheres, claiming it was for her health but ironically it had the opposite effect. She was enjoying meeting the different people of the town, it allowed her to become more acquainted with the region's dialect. They even taught her some local expressions, as well as crude jokes from the area involving sheep farmers in bars, which amused Charlotte greatly. The upper classes were rarely so much fun.

On the other side of the room, Mary was reaching for a snack of fruit from one of the side tables when the Doctor came to talk to her. At first apologising he hadn't talked to her so far that evening, he asked if she was having a good time. Mary's demeanor was light hearted and she had to admit that she was. The Doctor refilled her wine glass and they started chatting, he had taken his jacket off and was leaning with one arm over the fireplace towards her. In her uncharacteristic good humour for the evening, Mary obliged him in conversation and did not notice his overtures. She was genuinely interested to pick his brain about the solstice tradition in his hometown, as pagan holidays were an interest of hers too. They chatted about this for awhile.

Charlotte noticed them from across the room. They had been talking for quite some time, she thought... she noticed their body language. The Doctor was standing very close to Mary. Mary, for her part, didn't seem her usual brand of displeased. She even laughed, and smiled at the Doctor. This innocent observation opened a door in her mind, through which came rushing a deluge of speculation and paranoia. Unfortunately, Charlotte was prone to these attacks in moments of weakness. In that moment, the conversation she had been part of faded into the background and she could only hear her own inner voices. Perhaps she had been a fool... she glanced jealously over at the pair, brooding, her good humour slipping away from her and she powerless to stop it.

"Miss Anning..." said the Doctor. His usual polite and neat composure had disheveled, he was red-cheeked from the wine and had a strange dreamy look in his eyes. "Would it offend you terribly if I were to ask you to come to dinner. Alone, with me, one evening?"  
Mary sobered up instantly. She had been swept away in the good spirits and momentum of the evening that she had not registered the Doctor's intentions. Her demeanor began to retreat to its natural state; restrained and closed-off. Why must every friendship with a man eventuate into this? So many of the intelligent or scientific conversations which she engaged in were misread for romantic interest or flirtaciousness. It made her angry, the arrogance of these men.  
"Yes it does offend me, Doctor. Now I do not mean to tread badly on your hospitality this evening, and I certainly was not meaning to mislead you in any way. But I am simply not interested in you as anything more than a friend."  
The Doctor broke her gaze. He recoiled, taking a moment of pause before recovering himself to a gentleness and good humour.  
"Miss Anning. While I admit to being disappointed, of course I respect your right to reject me. But if I may ask, why?"  
"It's not your right to ask why, Doctor, does a woman need a reason to refuse a suitor?" Yet, observing him something in her softened slightly. He was not a bad person. Her eyes sought Charlotte from across the room, and found her, looking a bit red in the face and with her head resolutely downwards. Mary continued to gaze at her from a distance.  
"Doctor... If you need know," she lowered her voice to a whisper, "I'm not the sort that will ever take a husband. And I'm already the luckiest woman in the world. If you catch my drift." The Doctor followed her gaze to Charlotte. Suddenly, it clicked for him. Of course! How could he not have put that one together sooner?  
He smiled at her in a very genuine way. "Then I am happy for you, Miss Anning."  
She smiled back. But out of the corner of her eyes she saw Charlotte exit the room. She excused herself from the Doctor and went to find her.

\- - -

Mary caught Charlotte halfway down the street, storming away. She ran to catch up with her, yelling her name as she went. Charlotte did not turn around or respond. Mary caught up with her but still she would not respond all the way home. Mary was bewildered to see her like this. Arriving home, Charlotte ran upstairs without a word. Mary stood dumbstruck downstairs, wondering what had happened. Giving Charlotte a moment to herself upstairs, Mary followed her there. She knocked on the closed door.  
"Can I come in?" she asked.  
The door creaked opened from the other side. Charlotte stood on the other side, looking at her angrily.  
"What's going on, Charlotte?" asked Mary, distressed.  
"As if you don't know!" Charlotte raised her voice angrily. Her cheeks were still red from the wine and there were tears in her eyes. "You should have told me there was no point in visiting you, since you've got your charming Doctor to court you!"  
Mary gasped, aghast. She replayed the recent events in her mind's eye, considering what it might have looked like from Charlotte's point of view. She could understand why Charlotte had been hurt, but she also wanted to laugh out loud with how ridiculous a misunderstanding it was. She replied, "it wasn't what it looked like, Charlotte."  
This only seemed to upset Charlotte more. She shot back in a voice that was increasingly higher-pitched, "Oh really? So what else was it besides you two flirting and having a good laugh at my expense?"  
Mary winced, physically hurting from Charlotte's distress. She replied, trying a different tact, "Okay, you are right in that he was courting me."  
Charlotte cried out and sat on the bed with her head in her hands. Mary softened her tone, approaching with gentleness and kindness. She got to her knees and kneeled across from Charlotte.  
"I told him I wasn't interested. Because I'm already the luckiest woman in the world." She carefully touched Charlotte's hands, gently prying them away to reveal her face and look her in the eyes earnestly.  
"R-really?" said Charlotte meekly.  
"Yes."  
"You don't want to be with the Doctor? I know I've left you alone here for so long, I wouldn't be surprised if..."  
Mary stopped her, "No. I haven't thought of anyone but you since you left."  
These words called Charlotte back to sanity. She saw the truth in Mary's eyes, the earnestness in her face, the love and concern radiating from her. She felt her fears evaporate, her demons slinking away back to the shadows for the time being. She suddenly felt slightly ashamed. She pulled Mary to her, embracing her tightly.  
"I'm sorry... I was just so scared suddenly," Charlotte whispered.  
Mary sighed out the tension she'd been holding in. Both exhausted, they collapsed into bed and slept soundly for what remained of the night.  
\- - -

After that dramatic first evening (perhaps influenced by the power of the solstice), the weeks that followed were relatively uneventful. At first it seemed as though the time they had stretched out before them, a clear vast sky of opportunity. It was a first for them to have peace of mind and security for those precious six months. Their relationship deepened, their roots growing intertwined. They learnt more about each other, observing the other's little quirks and idiosyncrasies. Like the way Mary would stop in her tracks, her brow furrowing when she was piecing together an observation. Charlotte had seen her predict storms on sunny days before any clouds were even visible, simply from the change of wind direction and the type of ripples on the water's surface. Mary, on the other hand, noticed the way Charlotte would bite her lower lip when she was concentrating really hard on carefully carving out a difficult fossil, and was deaf to anything else, completely immersed in the activity. She also talked in her sleep when her dreams were vivid, a common occurrence. 

Time seemed to pass in a series of moments. They passed the days together in a series of their routines, walking the shores when weather permitted, doing the daily chores and reading, drawing and chiselling in the evenings. They cleaned the windows of the shop. Charlotte made a concerted effort to learn to cook and to do practical tasks like start the fire, which gave her a sense of pride and self-sufficiency. Her interest in the world of fossils was growing, too. Admittedly, when she first came to Lyme she hadn't been overly interested, she was more preoccupied with the woman discovering the fossils. But gradually, seeing through Mary's eyes into the intricacies and excitement of unveiling an ancient world, sparked Charlotte's keen intellect and curious mind and she wanted to learn more and more.

Mary, for her part, had found a deep sense of peace and contentment beyond what she had ever known. While she had joked about Charlotte being her apprentice, Mary was far too kind to actually treat her like one. She gifted all the benefits of apprenticeship without ever asking anything in return, giving her knowledge and skills without delegating the unpleasant and menial tasks which come with the job. This did not evade Charlotte's notice, observing all of Mary's small and modest tendernesses. 

Then there was that magical dimension that lived in the twilight hours between dusk and dawn. By candlelight, they were ravenous for each other and insatiable; hopelessly devoted and completely addicted. They had thought their love passionate at the beginning but it grew in intensity with the deepening of their relationship. It seemed the more they had the more they needed. They touched and allowed themselves to be touched in ways no other human had had the privilege of experiencing and that they themselves had rarely believed possible. They explored each other's bodies and learned the landscapes of their desires. They both asserted and submitted and pleased and were pleased and the freedom to shift and change this dynamic they both appreciated greatly. It stood in great contrast to the ingrained societal notion of women having to submit to their husbands, to be passive objects that were not meant to experience any pleasure. 

Charlotte had thought of herself as being less experienced, given that Mary was her first female lover. She had imagined herself having to work extra hard to make up for this. But later that idea seemed ridiculous as she realised how intuitive and simple it was. Plants don't have to be taught to grow towards the sun, after all. She tried to pry details from Mary about her previous sexual experiences with women, not out of jealousy but merely curiosity. Mary, sensing the taboo fascination in Charlotte, obliged with a few details but out of modesty and respect for the privacy of others' she didn't divulge too much.

The weeks passed and turned into months. The seasons changed gradually. The days became lighter and warmer and finally the first weeks of spring were upon them. They were able to stay out fossicking later. One such late afternoon, they were packing up their tools and finds for the day on an isolated part of a beach that they knew well. The sun had just started to fade, winding its way down behind the distant hills. It was the warmest evening they'd had so far that year, the warm air put them both in high spirits. Charlotte walked up behind Mary and wrapped her arms around her waist, enveloping her. Mary sighed at her touch but also by habit wanted to finish packing away her tools, so she tried to shrug Charlotte off.  
"I'll finish packing," she grunted.  
Charlotte was playful though, and persisted, giggling, "No, your apprentice needs your attention Mary!"  
Mary snorted trying to suppress laughter, but continued to try and shrug Charlotte off of her, who would not let go and in the scuffling and motion- WHAM they both fell flat onto the wet sand, only to have the next wave wash onto them. Mary had ended up on top of Charlotte and they both erupted into laughter. Charlotte lifted her hand up and began to paw sand onto Mary. Onto her face, her hair, her neck, looking a mixture of audacious and gleeful. Mary stared at her, allowing her to do it. Then she swooped her hand in one sleek motion and a huge splash hit Charlotte square in the face, going all over what was left of her clothes that weren't already wet and full of sand.  
"You!" Charlotte mock fumed. She pulled Mary down towards her to push her down into the water. They wrestled, their laughter and squealing turning soon into heavy breathing as they kissed and rolled around in the sand. Minutes later they lay side by side huffing, covered in sand and dirt and salt water. The sun was going down now. Charlotte turned to look at Mary and said, for the first time out loud, "I love you..."  
The world seemed to stop. Those words hung in the air for what felt like an eternity to Charlotte. But she could see it in Mary's eyes, like she had seen it there a hundred times before.  
"I love you too," replied Mary breathlessly, before pulling her close and kissing her deeply.  
Eventually they realised where they were and how soon it would be dark and cold. They meandered back home holding hands, giggling and free and fearless as children.

end Chapter 3

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Author's notes: Don't worry there's some angst coming in the next one, it won't be all romance & sunsets! (but don't we all wish it could be?) Hope you enjoyed it! Love to hear any feedback and comments xo


	4. Dark clouds rolling in

Chapter 4 - Dark clouds rolling in

Mary often awoke at dawn, it was her habit. She would notice the tone of light starting to change gently into the first hints of the day, watching Charlotte sleeping beside her. She watched the rise and fall of her chest with each breath, the freckles dotted across her skin, the way her blonde hair fell in messy curls. Some days Mary felt her heart might explode. It was both electrifying yet absolutely terrifying. She had allowed herself to fall completely in love with this woman. It had been too easy, at the start of those six months, to sidestep any thoughts of what would come in the future. It was shunted aside into the 'too hard' basket, and being intoxicated by Charlotte was an easy distraction to fall into. But now the time was starting to wear on, they were more than three months in, already past the halfway point.

Now all the voices Mary had tried to silence were coming back louder and more persistently. Every time she felt her love for Charlotte, in the background she also felt the intrusion of her fear, jealousy and anxiety over what would happen after those next three months. She couldn't bear to think of Roderick and his claim to Charlotte as his property and his subject, knowing that in society's eyes as well as in law she had no 'right' to be with Charlotte. It was profoundly disempowering, humiliating for a woman so proud. Mary didn't know what to do with these fears when they arose, they were an invisible hand clenched tightly over her chest. They were far too enormous for her to ever express, dark clouds descending on that previously clear horizon. So Mary watched her fears arise in these secret hours in the dawn-time, then pressed them back into the crevices of her mind and pretended they weren't there. It was easy to fall in love; far harder to work through your points of difference. But of course, when you try to suffocate something that needs to be spoken, it finds other way to express itself.

Case in point: Mary's moods of late could turn as dark as charcoal. It seemed to happen at random with no discernible pattern. Charlotte by now knew her so intimately that she knew all the different varieties of Mary's silence. Most of them were comfortable or neutral silences. Some of them could be inquisitive, others affronted. But those dark moods led to silences even Charlotte didn't know how to interpret or approach. At this point they were closely intertwined with the other's feelings and could sense emotional changes with an astute sensitivity. Charlotte had tried to talk to Mary at these times but found herself completely stonewalled. Being shut out was like being physically wounded for Charlotte, and it had the effect of bringing up her own anxieties and insecurities. She felt the need to placate and 'make things right' straight away. Her personality type was to reach towards, but the edge of desperation and neediness in the motion had the opposite effect and only made Mary recoil more. They had had a few minor clashes along these lines, but they were intensifying with time, ending in standoffs which took at worst days to deescalate yet seemed to make no headway towards resolution.

Eventually, Charlotte learnt that the only thing she could do in these situations was to give Mary space, letting her leave to roam the shoreline by herself. She would come back hours later, windswept and red faced, offering no explanation but at least placated somewhat by the elements.

\- - 

One morning, Mary was downstairs preparing to open the shop for the day. Now that it was spring, the tourists were slowly coming back and Lyme was becoming busier again. There was a knock on the door and the postman appeared, handing a letter to Mary. It was addressed to Charlotte. Flipping it around, Mary saw the sender was Roderick Murchison. The storm clouds appeared on her horizon. Without thinking, she left the letter on the counter, took her cloak and bag, and left.

Charlotte walked through the house and could not find Mary. She called to her, was confused at the lack of reply. She stood pondering at the doorway for some minutes, furrowing her brow in consternation. Then she saw the letter waiting on the counter. Fear gripped her. She picked it up, saw who it was addressed from and everything clicked. 'Shit,' she thought, sitting down and grasping her head in her hands. She suddenly realised what Mary's moods had been about the whole time and felt foolish that she hadn't put together what was so apparent. Charlotte had been so swept away falling in love that she hadn't wanted to think of what might come next. She had been willfully ignorant to the dilemma they were facing, and in doing so had been unable to be fully present with Mary, to connect with her fears.

Mary fumed through the streets of Lyme, in her mind replaying a tape of her grievances on repeat. She didn't look up to see where she was going, trudging forward with force. Turning a corner, she forcefully collided face first with-   
"Mary!" exclaimed Elizabeth. "Oh I'm so sorry I didn't see you coming," she noticed the look on Mary's face and knew at once something was wrong. "That's it, I'm taking you to my house for a tea. I don't care what you say this time."  
Before Mary could protest, Elizabeth gently guided her by the elbow and down the path towards her house.

Elizabeth's cottage garden was in spring-time bloom. It looked well-tended, Mary noticed faintly, sipping her tea in silence and avoiding eye contact. Elizabeth was sitting patiently. After sitting there about fifteen minutes in silence, allowing Mary to regain her breath, Elizabeth ventured to say, "tell me what is disturbing you, Mary. I can see it's a great burden on you. Please, I'd like to think that you consider me a friend and a counsel."  
Mary stared at her for another minute. Usually she wouldn't allow this sort of prying into her private affairs - not from Elizabeth, anyway. But there was a storm raging inside of her that had been building in isolation for months, and she could see no way out of it alone. She had to admit when she needed help. She spoke quickly, as if trying to express herself before she changed her mind mid-sentence.  
"It's Charlotte. Or more so, Charlotte's husband. He will want her back, come summertime. I don't know-" her face strained, her voice broke. "I don't know what to do." She looked up with tears in her eyes, desperation finally spilling over.  
"Oh, Mary..." Elizabeth took her hand and looked at her with empathy. She thought for a minute before continuing, "that is very difficult indeed. I can see how fond the two of you have grown of each other. But," she paused, "what does Charlotte think?"  
"I don't know. I haven't had the heart to talk to her about it."  
"Well, Mary! Of course you can't figure it out if you don't communicate with her about it."  
Mary stared off into the distance for a moment.  
"I just don't see any hope. We come from different worlds. What could I possibly ever offer her, a woman of her class? But I can't- I won't- be second to her husband." There was a pride, a determination in her face.  
"We were born in the wrong age, Mary. All of us. It's a difficult time for women like you, and Charlotte and I. But we're craftier than they think us. There's no counsel I can give you, Mary, you're right. This is squarely your business. But I truly believe, if you and Charlotte put your heads together, you can figure it out."   
She had emphasised the word 'together'. Mary nodded, meekly, knowing she was right but having needed to hear it spoken aloud from somebody. It was not her first instinct to reach out to people, in fact her whole modus operandi was generally hellbent against it. But in vulnerability also is strength, and a potential for healing and growth.  
Mary stayed for another tea, sitting in silence while Elizabeth gossiped about the happenings in town. Then she thanked Elizabeth, even giving her a small wordless hug before excusing herself and leaving.

Charlotte was closing up the shop in the late afternoon when Mary came through the door. She had dirty patches on her clothes and face so had evidently gone to walk the shores the rest of the day. She looked at Charlotte silently for a moment, then pulled out a rock the size of her palm from her pocket, walked up and handed it to her.  
"This is for you... try to carve it out later, should be a nice surprise." A peace offering. Mary looked at her apologetically.  
Charlotte smiled at her faintly, hugely relieved.   
"Thank you Mary." She took the rock from Mary's hand, then took the hand the rock had been sitting in and pulled Mary gently towards her into an embrace. "I was worried about you..." she whispered.   
Mary sighed, hugging back. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to worry you. I saw that letter and I- well, I think we should talk later."  
"Yes, I think so too. I'll just close up here. And let me make you something to eat Mary, you must be famished."

They sat at the table later with a simple tea of soup, eggs and bread. They ate in silence. Charlotte was right, Mary seemed very hungry and gratefully devoured her dinner. Eventually, when Mary was finished eating she pushed herself to speak.  
"So, what does your husband say?"  
Charlotte winced. It was such a seemingly simple thing to ask yet it belied a bitter truth.   
"Nothing of consequence, really... he recounted his latest expedition and sends us both his best wishes. You know. The usual sort of thing."  
"Right," replied Mary. Then she paused. It seemed as though she was having great difficulty in getting words out. She avoided eye contact and seemed to struggle with something internally.   
"Mary, please. You can talk to me." Charlotte encouraged her gently. She took Mary's hand in her own. Mary allowed it for a few seconds but then carefully pulled her hand back.   
"Well, I've been thinking about," she began, finding the courage to meet Charlotte's eyes briefly before looking away again. Charlotte could see she'd been crying. "What is going to happen come summer."  
It was a simple statement of such obvious fact, yet it was the thing that Mary had been terrified of uttering aloud for so long. Words have powerful effects when spoken. On one hand it instantly weighed them down, darkened their spirits and clouded their horizons. Yet saying it out loud was somehow also freeing. It was no longer a dark secret to skirt around, given power to grow in the darkness.  
Charlotte looked at Mary sadly. Although she had been thinking through scenarios in her head that day, in the moment she felt overwhelmed and unsure. After a moment she replied, "I... don't know." Tears welled in her eyes too. "I don't.... want to go back to Roderick. I don't think I can bear to leave you again." They looked at each other with desperation. "I'm guessing you still don't want to come live in London?" she broached.  
"No," replied Mary bluntly.  
"Maybe I can convince Roderick to let me live here for 6 months every year?"  
This angered Mary, "I don't want to share you with him. I can't bear to think of his hands on you..." she looked away in disgust.   
They were both almost crying now. Charlotte took her hands again.   
"Mary, look at me. Look at me." Mary turned her face towards her. "It's only you I love, only you..." They brought their foreheads together.  
Their conversation didn't seem to get far at the dinner table that evening, but the fact that they started it was a momentous thing. It had become a conversation rather than an internal monologue. 

It had started raining outside that evening. Later, Mary led Charlotte upstairs wordlessly by the hand. They were silent now, inside a deep and grounding stillness. There was no urgency, they relishing the time, everything seemed to pass in slow motion. They undressed each other, raining kisses and tongues upon bare skin. The spring rain pattered against the window panes as two bodies tangled and joined until night fell. 

They lay in bed afterwards. Mary was curled into Charlotte's naked body, lazily tracing the lines of her collarbones. Charlotte stared at the window, the rain gently tapping away outside. An idea was forming. Maybe it was just the post-sex endorphins, but everything just seemed clearer somehow.  
"Mary?" she asked quietly.  
"Mmm?"  
"What if I came to live with you, here... permanently? Bugger Roderick. I'll leave him. Simple as that."   
It came out so easily, what she really wanted. She wondered why she hadn't been able to say it before, it had seemed impossibly difficult.  
Mary didn't say anything for awhile. Staying where she was on Charlotte's chest, she eventually replied, "And what of all the things you'd be giving up, Charlotte? Your life of leisure and your prospects. You'd rather give all that up to live in this cottage and collect fossils?"   
Charlotte continued staring at the rain falling against the window. The window was foggy from humidity and shadows played across it. She thought she felt what seemed like some sort of internal resolution gathering inside of her. A fire was slowly lighting that would soon take off.  
"Well the thing is, Mary. I don't really _care_ about any of those things. I had them before and I was quite miserable. So yes, I would much prefer to live with you in this cottage and collect fossils."  
Mary finally lifted her head, turning to look at Charlotte, "Really?"  
"Truly."  
"Well I think you should take some time to think about it..." said Mary, ever cautious, yet feeling butterflies of excitement in her stomach.  
"I don't need to think about it, Mary. I just know it," Charlotte said, a smile starting to play on her lips. It was infectious, Mary couldn't help the tease of a smile working its way onto her lips as well.   
Mary still thought she would make Charlotte consider it in more detail, given all that she would be giving up. Yet she couldn't stop but notice that something warm, light and comforting that was spreading through her chest. Something perhaps a bit like hope. Far enough above every storm is a clear blue sky, after all. 

\- - - 

Spring was in full bloom in Lyme and the atmosphere of the town had changed dramatically. The days were lighter, longer and warmer and it was quite pleasant to walk around in the middle of the day with only a dress on and no coat. The town was abuzz with activity, seasonal workers had come back and the streets were lively with travelling merchants, fisherman and farmers peddling their produce from nearby villages. The tourists had returned. Mary's fossil shop was getting busy, there were frequently people dropping in. Though Mary and Charlotte joked about Charlotte's apprenticeship 'paying off', in a practical sense it was true. Having an extra set of hands around certainly made things easier, not to mention Charlotte's penchant for upselling to the rich men who waltzed into the shop. Together they were quite efficient and the profitability of the shop increased more than enough to cover the extra cost of having an extra person around. 

Charlotte was beginning to be quite adept at finding fossils. She was smart, and when interested in something applied herself to it. A few afternoons she had even been out fossicking by herself and come back with rocks later revealed as belemnites. She would insist on going out by herself, or minding the shop, to allow Mary time to do her scientific study and research. Mary was grateful, and Charlotte's encouragement and recognition of her work made her feel respected and seen.

One warm evening, the sun was starting to make its way down into the horizon. Charlotte was bringing the shop sign back inside. She stood for a moment, watching the sun go down and breathing the warm spring air deeply into her lungs. The beauty of the evening gave her an idea. Bringing the sign inside, she went to find Mary, who was in the back cleaning tools after carving out an enormous ammonite they had discovered some days earlier.   
"Mary!" Charlotte exclaimed excitedly.  
"What is it?"  
"It's such a beautiful, warm night out tonight. I've had an idea. Do you want to go out somewhere?"  
"Go out?"  
Charlotte took Mary's hands in hers, "Yes. I was thinking maybe you could take me out in town to some place fun. Wouldn't it be nice?"  
Mary observed Charlotte, so gleeful and excited she was, like a child. She felt a great wave of affection for her. She couldn't bear to disappoint her, so she nodded her head in agreement.  
"I know just the place to take you too, Charlotte. Make sure not to dress _too_ nicely, though," said Mary, smirking somewhat mysteriously.  
Charlotte squealed with excitement and ran upstairs to change.

end chapter 4

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Author's notes: Thanks for reading & for all your lovely comments & kudos on the work so far :-) As always, any thoughts or general ponderings are more than welcome! xo


	5. The tavern and the moon

Chapter 5 - The tavern and the moon

Mary and Charlotte wound their way through the busy streets of Lyme, the last of the daylight descending slowly. Charlotte recalled how empty it had been in the middle of winter, now the population seemed to have tripled. They weaved between the tourists meandering along looking at the wares of vendors and dodged the children playing games at their feet. The warm spring air had the same effect on everyone else in town, there was a lightness and a frivolity in the air as people took a turn about the city that evening. The air smelt like cut grass and flowers. Mary second-guessed herself for only a brief moment before continuing to lead the way, cutting through a familiar backstreet path to avoid the crowded main streets.

After fifteen minutes or so of walking, they arrived at an unassuming tavern on the corner. A lantern hung above the doorway marking the entrance. Mary stopped in front. Charlotte looked at her with surprise, she'd never been to a tavern before. She rarely thought women were allowed by themselves.   
"Are we allowed to go inside?" she asked, trying to sound casual but betraying a hint of trepidation.   
Mary was calm and had an air of good humour about her which was reassuring, and replied with confidence, "Of course. After you," she held the door open for Charlotte and gestured for her to enter.  
"Such a gentle-woman," Charlotte winked and smiled at her as she walked through.  
They had entered the ground floor of a mid-sized tavern which offered food, drink and beds for weary travellers. There was a long bar on one side of the room, behind which were stone steps leading upwards. Round wooden tables filled up the rest of the space, packed with an assortment of men. Mostly working class men still in their work wear from the day, with sweaty shirts and pants covered in dirt and soot, pints of beer on their tables, laughing heartily, smoking pipes and playing cards. Charlotte and Mary walked in. For a very clear moment, the whole pub went silent, all eyes turned towards them. The moment seemed to stretch on eternally. Then, suddenly a voice rang out from behind the bar, "Mary!"  
It was coming from a plump woman with a no-nonsense air about her sporting a stained apron. She greeted Mary enthusiastically and waved them over. The noise suddenly resumed in the pub and everything seemed to go back to normal. As they walked up to the bar, a couple of the men in the pub nodded their acknowledgement at Mary. Charlotte exhaled a long breath she hadn't noticed she'd been holding in.  
"Hello, Ethel!" Mary greeted her back, approaching the bar.   
"Oh come here, you!" the woman named Ethel leaned across the bar and grabbed Mary in a crushing hug, smiling broadly.  
"'Aven't seen you in here in forever, Mary! And who might this be?" she turned to Charlotte.  
Mary made the introductions. There was a slight cringe in her voice introducing Charlotte as 'Mrs Murchison'. Ethel reached out a grubby hand to shake hello. They took two seats at the bar, opposite Ethel.  
"Your usual, Mary?" Ethel asked, and before waiting for a reply poured them two pints of a dark red ale and plonked them on the bar.  
Charlotte was secretly impressed. It seemed Mary had a whole mysterious alter ego she'd never revealed before. She wanted to learn all the different versions of Mary.  
"Cheers," said Mary, holding out her pint to Charlotte. Her eyes were smiling. They drank from their glasses deeply, thirsty.  
"So what brings you to these parts, Mary?" asked Ethel, now shining clean glasses with a dirty dishtowel.   
"Well, Charlotte here wanted to have some fun you see. She's from out of town. I thought what better a place to get to know the locals."  
Ethel laughed heartily, "you sure have a strange sense of humour, Mary, bringing this nice woman in here." Then, turning to address Charlotte, "your tour guide is pulling your leg, I think Mrs."   
"Please, call me Charlotte. And I like your establishment, it's quite charming," Charlotte was definitely feeling out of her comfort zone but she was making an effort.  
They drank their beers and chatted. They could feel the eyes of the men on them, their curiosity palpable. It was a rare occurrence to see a woman in the tavern unless she was with her husband. Mary had been coming here since she was a child, her father used to take her after a day's work and they'd sit there for hours, talking fossils and meeting the townspeople. She'd come here ever since, from time to time, and didn't feel intimidated in the slightest. Her grounded calm was quite reassuring to Charlotte and made her feel at ease. The beer also seeped into them, leaving them more relaxed and in good humour. Mary was scanning the room and entertaining Charlotte by giving her the run down on the characters from the town.  
"So there's Fred, he's the son of the lumberjack. You can see he's probably already had a pint too many and he's not going to last much longer-" as she said this, Fred's head slumped violently down onto his table. "Drinking with Fred is John, and give him another couple pints and he'll start singing in the most angelic voice you ever heard. Then, let's see, well there's the priest in the corner there. Mind you, common knowledge not to leave your little ones with him. And Sam, the fisherman, who I'm quite sure leaves Lyme in the winter to work shifts on the Portuguese coast, with his handsome Spanish lover." Charlotte gasped. She couldn't stop laughing. 

A broad shouldered man with a dirty apron came down the staircase from behind the bar. He was saying something to Ethel when he caught the sight of Mary. Coming over enthusiastically, he roared, "An' who 'ave we here! Old lightning Mary! Ethel, why didn't you tell me?!"  
Mary smiled at him, "Good to see you Tom. Looking well." She introduced Charlotte to Ethel's husband, the publican and owner of the tavern.  
Charlotte was no longer feeling self-conscious. Her curiosity piqued, she asked quissically, "Why did you call her Lighting Mary?"  
Tom set down two more pints in front of them, then took a seat behind the bar opposite.  
"You haven't heard the most famous story of our village?" roared Tom. He was loud and brash but catchingly good-natured. "Mary, you haven't told your friend how famous ye are!"   
Mary shrugged in her nonchalant way, "I presume you're about to."  
Other patrons were coming closer, starting to listen in with interest, now.   
"Alright, listen everyone," Tom began with an air of showmanship. "When little Mary here was but a babe, she was a sickly child. Never well at all. Now, you'd know that her family'd lost quite a few kids before Mary and her brother come along, so it seemed a bit dire. One day a travelling horse show comes and sets up in town. Now picture this," Tom paused to draw in breath and continued, speaking the next part of the story emphatically. He was a dramatic and entertaining storyteller.  
"Little baby Mary is being held in the arms of Mrs Smith, an old family friend. She's standing under an elm tree with two other women from town, waiting for the show to start. Storm starts to come over, quick like. No one expected it, typical coastal front. Thunder, lightning the whole thing. Tragedy strikes. Lightning hits the tree they're standing under. It's chaos. People screaming, crying. All three women and lil Mary, lying on the ground not movin'." He paused for dramatic effect. The crowd that had gathered now listened with baited breath.  
"They get the town doctor. Not the Doctor now, mind you, we had another doctor back then. Anyways, all three women and young baby Mary pronounced dead at the scene - tragedy. But baby Mary- you won't believe- comes back to life! That's right. Little baby Mary survived a lightning strike an' three other fully grown women didn't. An' after that, she wasn't sickly no more. No more colds or nothin'. That's why we always reckoned she's a genius, that lightning gave her special powers it did."   
Mary was blushing slightly now, drinking her beer and determinately staring off at a point on the other side of the room. She'd never been good at being the centre of attention. There was excited chatter and commotion in the pub, men slapping her on the shoulder gleefully, roaring "Lightning Mary!"   
Charlotte looked at her, amazed.   
"You never told me that before," she said, staring at Mary, the miracle child who survived a lightning strike.

Mary and Charlotte stumbled out of the bar at closing time, passionately drunk and laughing raucously. Ethel and Tom had insisted they have a whiskey for the road, on the house to thank Charlotte for dragging Mary back to see them, insisting to come back soon. Their shoes clip clopped against the cobblestone streets. The air was fresher now, but not unpleasant; a cool sea breeze blew in from the shoreline. They turned a corner. A full moon came into view from behind the clouds. It was late, the streets were empty now.

"Lightning Mary," giggled Charlotte, weaving her arm through Mary's and pulling her close. "So full of surprises you are!"  
Mary gave a half-smile. "Did you enjoy that outing, Charlotte?"  
"Ooh yes!!" exclaimed Charlotte, overly-enthusiastic in the way that drunks are.  
"Cos," continued Mary, her words slurred just slightly, "Those are the social circles I grew up in. No fancy balls or nothing."   
Charlotte got the gist. It occurred to her that Mary might have been testing her in some way.   
"Well it was a lot more fun than some posh ball. And I got to find out all about Lightning Mary." Charlotte giggled, but Mary didn't seem to be listening. Her thoughts seemed to be drifting somewhere else.  
"What is it?" asked Charlotte.  
Her inhibitions lowered, Mary gave the contents of her mind willingly for once. She was thinking of what Elizabeth had said to her the other day. Turning to Charlotte she said, "Do you think we were born in the wrong time?"  
"What do you mean?"  
"I mean... I don't like having to hide who we are. And what you are to me."  
Charlotte thought back to how Mary had introduced her to Ethel and Tom as a friend, a married woman.  
"Do you think in the future things will be different?" wondered Charlotte.  
Mary was silent.  
"What do you think it will be like then?" Charlotte continued her train of thought. "Do you think women will be free to hold hands and kiss in public?"  
"I hope that anyone will be free to live as they choose." Mary said, a bit bitterly. There was a sadness that had crept into her, unexpected but undeniable. 

They reached a path that wound around the edge of town. Views of the ocean stretched out before them. A full moon was in clear view lighting up everything luminescently. Mary walked to the railing at the edge of the path, staring at the glimmering moonlight reflected in the ocean. Her sudden sombreness was sobering to Charlotte. She walked up beside Mary and they stood silently for some time there. Charlotte gently took Mary's hands in her own, grasping them tightly. Mary looked firstly at their hands, then at Charlotte. She wished she could have hid her sadness from Charlotte, but she wasn't able now. Her eyes brimmed just barely with the hint of tears. When Charlotte spoke, it was full of that fierey determination that was so characteristic of her. She looked at Mary full of earnest.  
"I think we have enormous power to choose what our lives look like. Mary, you're the one who taught me that. I thought there was just one path laid out for me before I met you. You're the one who inspired me to follow you into the ocean. Do you remember?"   
Mary nodded. She would never forget that moment. She put her arms around Charlotte's waist. Charlotte played with the collar of her dress affectionately, ran her fingers along the lines of Mary's skin.  
"I've been second to men all my life, Charlotte. In the geographic society, the museums. And now with you."   
"You're not second to anyone when it comes to me," Charlotte whispered. They were very close now and there was electricity and heat coursing between them. Their foreheads touched.  
"I wish that were true," whispered Mary. She allowed herself to stay another moment and then released Charlotte, stepping away with a frustrated energy. More loudly, she said, "But you know it isn't, Charlotte."   
"That's not true!" Charlotte was getting upset now. "I told you, I'm going to leave him."  
"And what is he going to say when you do? You think he's going to just let you walk out?" Mary had touched on a nerve and it hurt. Charlotte's eyes welled with tears. Seeing this, Mary immediately regretted unleashing her frustrations on Charlotte.  
"I'm sorry, Charlotte," her voice had softened somewhat, but she continued passionately, "but you just asked how might things be if we lived in a different time. And if we lived in a different time, in another world, then I could ask you to be _my_ wife." She looked at Charlotte fiercely, a mixture of love and defiance that was startling and powerful.  
It took Charlotte so completely by surprise that she stood overwhelmed for a moment. She looked at Mary, framed by the ocean and lit up by the moon, declaring her love in such an uncharacteristically verbal way. Something enormous and warm expanded in her chest. She closed the distance between them and threw herself at Mary, kissing her passionately.  
"In any time, in any world," Charlotte breathed, between kisses, "my answer would be yes." Everything else disappeared. They managed to find their way home in the end, stumbling through back alleys not being able to keep their hands off each other. When they got home, they didn't even make it to the bed, halfway up the stairs seemed close enough.

\- - - 

The days continued to go by in relative peace. There was a simplicity to their life that from the outside could be mistaken for mundanity. Viewed from within, they both felt deeply engaged and fulfilled with their lives, which went from quietly peaceful and content to thrilling and passionate. Their love grew quietly confident in the silent spaces between. There was always a lot of work to do, along with many chores, but they also had ample time for resting, reading and studying. Eventually Mary contacted a cabinetmaker she knew and had a double bed made and placed upstairs for them, the old one taken apart and sold for timber. Sharing the single bed had been romantic at first but after many months it grew slightly uncomfortable, as much as neither of them wanted to admit it for the soft spot it held. 

Charlotte had added touches of her own to the place. She grew flowers in pots and placed them outside, beside the shop windows. She hummed as she watered them, Mary watching her from a distance with affection. She re-organised and cleaned the inside of the shop, making it more hospitable to customers. Mary had made progress on documenting some of her discoveries on paper, sketched and noted up in intricate detail. Charlotte kept suggesting she write journal articles and send them to the Magazines of Natural History and similar publications, but Mary resisted. Charlotte was astonished, however, to see how many worldy geologists and scientists she maintained regular correspondence with. They routinely wrote to Mary to ask her views, which she gave, more than anything out of scientific interest in the questions they posed her.

Between work, chores and daily life they had started to scheme their future together. Elizabeth had been right, the both of them being highly organised and capable women certainly made it easier. They thought through everything, calculating projected income versus expenses, the logistics of Charlotte's departure and the risk of Roderick or someone else coming after her. Mary wanted to make sure Charlotte was absolutely sure on what she would be giving up. It was bleak in the sense that as a woman in her own right, Charlotte had no legal right or recourse to divorce Roderick, nor had she any right to retain any inheritance, wealth or property that she had brought into the marriage.   
"Amazing coincidence, isn't it?" commented Mary sardonically by the fire one evening while they discussed this.  
"Almost like they want to keep women as housewives and mothers."  
They were still about eighty years too early for the suffragettes movement that would spread across their country. The best Charlotte could do was leave in the night with a trunk full of her things and hope Roderick wouldn't come looking for her. Mary would sometimes completely out of the blue shoot her a question along the lines of, "and you're sure, you won't miss eating baked fish in fine establishments?" or some such thing.  
Charlotte would laugh at her and say, "no! Mary, I told you. I've no need for such things."  
It had the intended effect of making her think, all the same. Her conclusion never changed though.

Spring was turning into summer. Usually something welcomed and celebrated, it was the season both Mary and Charlotte were dreading, knowing it would bring their separation. Charlotte felt especially bad for leaving Mary to her work alone in the busiest tourist season. Mary shrugged this off, saying she would be fine and not to worry. Mary worried in turn about Charlotte. She wished she could go with her and help, but she knew that was impossible. They prepared all that they could and when there was nothing else to plan, they simply allowed themselves to enjoy the moments they had together. 

Eventually the day came that Charlotte was to leave. They both woke up at dawn that day, the air heavy with their dread and grief. They wished they could pause time, but it marched on relentlessly. Charlotte had packed only some of her things, leaving the rest with Mary. Mary walked her to the port where she would take the ship back to London. They looked at each other, bracing for the heartbreak they knew was coming. 

It was a fine summer day, the beauty of it seemed to mock their sadness. Mary fiddled with something in her pocket, pulling out a small, pink gemstone hanging by a fine black thread. She took Charlotte's hand and placed it inside her palm.   
"Rose quartz," she said simply. "Found it on the beach one day we were out together... just a small piece, but it's rare enough. I want you to have it, give you strength when you need it."   
Charlotte traced the translucent stone with one finger. Then she brought the thread up and tied it around her neck. It hid perfectly under her dress, but she could feel it there.  
"Thank you Mary, it's beautiful..." she said, then without any hesitation she embraced Mary tightly. Whispering in her ear, she said, "Before summer's finished, I'll be back here with you, I promise..."

  
end chapter 5

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Author's notes: So I was reading about the life of Mary Anning on Wikipedia and it had the story about the lightning strike, which is apparently true - interesting hey? As always, thank you for reading and for your lovely comments :) Otherwise I'm just writing into an ether, but I suppose I'd be doing that anyway! Xo


	6. Separation anxiety

Chapter 6 - Separation anxiety

Mary walked home alone from the port, her world crumbling. She'd lived her whole life being self-sufficient, and she had been perfectly fine then. Or so she'd believed. Now that she'd finally let someone behind her walls, the vulnerability of that loss and the loneliness which followed felt unbearable. She felt Charlotte's absence directly. Mary wandered, winded and almost staggering, focusing her eyes on the washed out bricks at the pier yet not seeing them. She had grow so used to having Charlotte there beside her and the companionship that was cemented between them. Mary tried in vain to push these thoughts away from her as she trudged away, to not feel her heart breaking in her chest, but it was a lost cause.

As she arrived back at her shop she noticed a few people were lined up outside, patiently waiting for her return. Mary opened the shop and ushered them inside, one by one spending the time to talk to them, answer their questions and steer them into purchases. It was frankly a relief for her to be thrown into work. A few sold items later, the shop was empty again and somehow the day had already come to a close. Mary balanced the till, brought the sign in and locked the door behind her. She didn't make it much further than that. The dam burst, all the feelings she'd tried to avoid since leaving Charlotte earlier came flooding through. Slumping against the back of the doorway, she succumbed to the weight of her grief and she cried, curled into a ball, a bawling mess.

She walked through the quiet and empty house later and everything seemed to remind her of Charlotte. Pangs against Mary's heart. The flowers Charlotte had picked still in the vase on the table. An ammonite she'd found and carved out herself, proudly adorning the piano she would play of an evening. Upstairs, the bedroom was the most difficult room to face. _Their_ room, _their_ bed. Mary found some of the belongings Charlotte had left there, brought a dress up to her face and inhaled the scent deeply. Separation anxiety is your body constantly reminding you something is missing and yearning for it desperately, like a phantom limb. Mary could hardly stand it, cooped up with these taunting memories of what would now be missing from her life. She grabbed her coat and left the house in a hurry. Making her way in the dark to a beach nearby she sat, rolling cigarettes and smoking while watching the waves. They crashed onto the shore, heavy and violent, yet rhythmic and soothing at the same time. It brought her a small amount of comfort.

Charlotte, for her part, was in the double bind of suffering from the same state of separation anxiety while also having to pretend otherwise in front of her husband. Roderick seemed content to sprout tales of his own grand adventures while asking barely anything of her time in Lyme. She knew how to play this game, she'd done it for years of her life. It shocked her to realise how second nature it was to allow herself to fade into the background. The strange thing was, Roderick wasn't even a _bad_ man. He was quite decent by most standards - honest, bright and conscientious. Yet he was afflicted by the constraints of thinking so endemic of those times, a belief in the physical and mental superiority of upper class white males. He never asked or expected anything from Charlotte. She felt like a doll, a plaything with no purpose or agency of her own. She became subsumed into his shadow once more, never being asked for her opinions nor given chance to put them forward. She remembered this. How numbing it had been to her soul, her whole existence. 

It was also jarring to be back in middle class society. Despite its luxuries and creature comforts, Charlotte had grown used to and even fond of having a high degree of autonomy and self-sufficiency in Lyme. Arriving in London, she was initially taken aback at the maid's deliberations over their welfare, their meals and even trivial matters. It was no longer second nature for Charlotte, and now having become habituated to a different way of living, it seemed by contrast strange. One evening out of habit, Charlotte had started stacking plates after a meal. Roderick had looked at her as if she were mad. She'd frozen, a deer in the headlights. 

Looking back, Charlotte reflected on the journey she had taken upon meeting Mary and through their relationship together. She remembered the way she'd always worn black in those days, as though in mourning. Both for her lost child and for parts of herself. The way that she had just needed a bit of empathy and connection to rekindle the life in her. It was difficult for Charlotte amongst her current daily charade to find space to process and express her sadness. She would wait until Roderick left the house and then allow herself to cry. She kept Mary's rose quartz hidden on her neckline every day, it reminded her that the time they'd spent together wasn't imaginary. She stole snippets of time to start making her secret arrangements, hoping Roderick would suspect nothing.

Mary's days became slowly more bearable as she re-adjusted to life alone. Although it hurt like hell, this time it was easier to endure because they had a plan. Everything seemed easier to bear if there was an approximate end date to count down to. She kept herself busy, throwing herself into her work, which wasn't difficult at this time of year. It also seemed that word had gotten around that Charlotte was back in London and people from the town kept dropping in on Mary unannounced. Elizabeth and the Doctor especially routinely popped by and stayed for several hours, making excuses as to why their schedules had suddenly opened up for the day. Or they would bump into her on the street and before she could say no, wheedle her into a cup of tea or a meal. It stank of a conspiracy, thought Mary, though she was (secretly of course) not ungrateful. She allowed herself the small comfort of the company of others. She reflected on how much meeting Charlotte had changed her. She would never have been capable of that before, closed off as she was, fortified against connection. Elizabeth and the Doctor tried to pry details out of her regarding Charlotte, but she would not budge. Charlotte and her had discussed this, deciding it was better not to let any information out to others and not to write to each other lest it arouse suspicion or exist as evidence.

As always, the evenings were the most difficult. Mary would try to pass the time writing poetry, or sketching her beloved. Some nights she would lie in bed, thinking of Charlotte longingly and aching to touch her. She thought of Charlotte's pale, soft skin, the feel of her. Warm kisses on cold skin. That look she would get in her eye, the sounds she made... Mary's breath became ragged until she found release. But afterwards, she was still alone and felt it all the more acutely.

Time seemed to drag on for the both of them, this endless void. Mary thought about how strange and subjective a thing as time was. Those six months with Charlotte had seemed to fly by in bursting flashes. Whereas now, single days could drag on like an eternity. The days grew hot at the zenith of summer, thunderstorms blew in frequently from the coast as they always did at that time of year. Mary loved to watch them come in suddenly and drench Lyme with force. Since learning of her miraculous survival as a baby, she'd always watched lightning in the sky with a sense of awe and wonder, knowing it had coursed through her frail and tiny body once. On one hand, she dismissed the theories of the town as mere folklore - perhaps she had just been lucky, a statistical anomaly. But on the other hand, in some deep down place, she felt perhaps she might be special in some way. These two voices would never see eye to eye; she contented herself by watching the storm.

As the weeks stretched out into months, the thunderstorms disappeared off the coasts again. Fog and chill returned to Lyme in the mornings and evenings, thickly blanketing the town and heralding the arrival of autumn. The days began to grow shorter again. The autumn rains arrived, relentless volumes of water bucketed down upon the residents for days at a time. Unable to take to the shoreline and holed up inside to carve out fossils on these days, Mary dwelled on the departure of summer with some anxiety. Charlotte had not yet arrived. Mary wondered, fearing something had happened to her. Her eyes were insatiably drawn to watching the front door, her ears listening for the bell to ring out. But you know what they say about watched doors; no blonde head of hair ever appeared.

One evening something strange happened. Mary was down at the tavern visiting Ethel and Tom, relishing a glass of ale, or four. She was not prone to alcoholism by any means but the stress of the past few weeks were taking its toll and she longed for some temporary relief. Ethel and Tom noticed her demeanor, how much more morose and recalcitrant she was this visit around. Tom acted a clown to get a laugh out of her, but Mary seemed set on remaining lugubrious and despondent. At closing time, Mary was draining the last of her glass about to leave. As her empty pint met the top of the bar, Mary turned to them and said, "Think I'll be off for tonight then. Reckon I'll sleep like a baby."  
Ethel turned to her quite suddenly.  
"Mary, you just reminded me!" she exclaimed, with the air of someone remembering something very exciting.  
"What?"  
"I had a dream about you last night. Very vivid, it was. Unusual too cos I don't often remember me dreams."  
Mary looked at her curiously. She'd had an interest in dreams since she was little. Soon after her father had passed, she'd dreamt of him being there in front of her in their house. He didn't even say anything to her in the dream, just stood there smiling and looking at Mary with love in his eyes. Yet it was so incredibly lifelike, his presence felt just as it had when he was alive. It had always seemed more a visitation than a dream to her.  
"What did you dream, Ethel?" asked Mary, feigning an air of nonchalance.  
Ethel's face was scrunching up in concentration, trying to pull together the threads. "I was walking into town. It was really bright, no clouds in the sky at all. I bumped into you, walking down the street, on that path that follows beside the ocean, you know the one? So I greet you, and you were quite jolly in the dream Mary, looked 'appy an' all. I look down and see you're holding hands with this wee girl. This cute little thing with blonde hair."  
"And?" Mary was stunned, hungry for more details about this mysterious dream.  
"That was it, dream ended there. No way you could be pregnant could you?"  
Mary snorted with genuine amusement, "I think that's quite impossible, my dear Ethel."  
After this, Mary bid her goodbyes and left the tavern. The rain was pummelling down. Sheltered under her umbrella, Mary walked home slowly, turning Ethel's dream over in her mind.

Not a week after this encounter, Mary was sound asleep in bed when she was awoken in the dead of the night. Rapping at the door. She awoke with a start, groggy and confused. Fear coursed through her. She lit a candle, threw a shawl over herself and made her way down the stairs. The rapping continued. She stood cautiously staring at the door trying to discern who it was - burglars, thieves? Drunkards? Picking up a mallet from her tool belt, she quietly stalked towards the door. The person on the other side was obscured both from the darkness and an oversized black cloak they were wearing.

Approaching the door, Mary barked out in what she hoped was a deep and intimidating voice, "Who'se there? I warn you sir I am armed!"  
From the other side came a whisper in a much higher pitch than she had anticipated, saying simply, "Mary, it's me."   
Startled, Mary opened the door to find Charlotte's blue eyes peering at her from behind a hooded cloak which obscured most of her face.  
"Oh my god, Charlotte-" Mary dropped the mallet she'd been holding, and hurriedly pulled Charlotte inside. She had a small but heavy suitcase on her but nothing else. Mary locked the door behind them. They kissed hurriedly.  
"Charlotte I can't believe-" Mary had started speaking, for once Charlotte was the silent one. She threw herself into Mary's arms and hugged her tightly, burrowing her head into Mary's collarbones. They stayed like that for awhile. Mary sensed not all was right with Charlotte, she was holding on to Mary like a lifeline and shaking slightly. Mary held her, her hands pressed into Charlotte's still hooded face and back. "Let's get you a warm cup of tea," she said gently to Charlotte.  
In typical British fashion, when in doubt resort to tea.

Mary gently guided Charlotte to the back room. There were still embers in the fire, Mary quickly stoked them and threw a log on. She lit candles and a lantern which she placed on the table, and placed water to boil. Charlotte was hovering awkwardly, she had not sat down or taken her oversized, hooded cloak off, which was unsettling to Mary.  
"Charlotte..." Mary said tenderly. "Are you okay? Tell me what's happened."  
Charlotte shakily sat down at the table. She took Mary's hand in hers. "So things did not go exactly according to plan, Mary. I had to- improvise a bit."   
She let out a big exhale. Slowly she pulled the hood down from her face. Mary saw her face was very pale, with dark bags under her eyes and a shining blue bruise on one side of her face, along with a number of cuts and grazes. She gasped, horrified.   
"Oh Charlotte," she breathed, moving close to her and very lightly caressing Charlotte's battered face. Tears welled in their eyes.  
"Did he do this to you?" Mary's eyes narrowed. "I'll kill him myself."   
She was inspecting Charlotte's hands, which she noticed were also grazed, and lifting up the baggy sleeves of the cloak to examine her arms for more bruises. Charlotte pulled away somewhat evasively, like a child dodging their mother's preening.  
"It's okay, Mary... the important thing is that I made it here. I'm sorry it's a bit later than we'd planned, I hope you didn't think I'd given up on you."   
That Charlotte had been beaten up, escaped in the night and was still concerned for Mary's feelings reflected on her enormous selflessness. Mary assured her she did not think that. She poured two cups of hot tea with foraged herbs, they steamed vigorously and a comforting aroma filled the air. Mary was dying with curiosity to know what had happened but didn't want to press Charlotte too much. They sat in silence for a long while, warming their hands on their tea cups. Periodically they took small sips, as though this were nothing more than a casual afternoon catch up.  
Eventually, Charlotte seemed ready to talk. She recounted how the summer had passed by relatively uneventfully.   
"I mean, it was dreadful but that was normal," she phrased it.   
Mary was relieved to hear some of her usual wit and humour coming through.

All was going to plan, Charlotte recounted. She had secretly been packing a suitcase of her most precious belongings, being careful in her selection. Nothing too valuable, but some jewellery and other items she had snuck in, with the hopes that Roderick wouldn't have specific memory of those items once she was gone. He hadn't picked up on anything the whole time, it appeared, content as he was with his life and Charlotte's muted role in it. Charlotte recounted how it had given her a strange sense of satisfaction to plan her escape, a secret life which gave her hope and helped her breathe more easily, knowing there was a way out for her, something to look forward to beyond.

It had been all set. Roderick had a hunting trip arranged with the other gentlemen, he was to be away all weekend. Charlotte waited until he left. Told the maid to have the evening off, finished packing her things, had just turned to leave the house when- heart pounding- Roderick returned. A mishap had caused the trip to be cancelled last minute, dangerous weather blowing in from the coast.  
He had stood there in the doorway, he coming in, she on her way out. He looked at her suitcase, her cloak, and most telling of all the look of freedom and finality on her face. And in that moment he knew.  
"Going somewhere?" he had said, venom dripping from his deceptively calm and even voice.  
Charlotte had tried to maneuver herself out of the appearance of it, but he was not that daft. Roderick, caught off guard and humiliated, had started yelling at Charlotte, who stood scared and stunned shrinking in the corner at his bellows: "Where would you ever go you daft woman? In what world would you even survive without me?" and so on and so forth.

Eventually something in Charlotte snapped. All the years of silence, of passivity and good manners, of being glanced over and spoken for and told what to do, came crashing down on her in those moments of Roderick towering over her. A beast awoke in Charlotte, magnificent and golden, which would not allow itself to be trodden on or dismissed anymore. It roared; she felt its presence within her and before she knew what was happening her voice returned to her with force.

"SHUT UP, RODERICK!" she screamed at him, her eyes fires burning uncontrollably.   
Roderick went silent mid-sentence, now it was his turn to cower. Charlotte unleashed on him and it was probably the most honest she'd ever been in the relationship. Told him that she was unhappy, had been for the longest time and knew she was worth more and was going to seek a better life for herself - one of her choosing. Once she'd finished, she stood up tall with her shoulders back, proud and defiant. 

It went against everything Roderick had ever been taught to know as a man in their society. There was an error in his brain as he couldn't compute what was happening. Who was this wild Charlotte, this forceful and independent creature in her own right? If she could be like that, then everything as he knew it was upside down. In these split seconds, Roderick's defense mechanisms went up and it was much easier to simply believe his wife was having a mental breakdown. He stood gaping at her, mouth opening and closing dumbly.

"Goodbye Roderick," Charlotte had said. 

She'd pushed past him towards the door, and he'd snapped. Men in those times were not accustomed to women speaking back, asserting themselves let alone indulging in these absurd fantasies of self reliance. Revulsion and shame seeped into Roderick; he turned into a frothing beast and had grabbed Charlotte fiercely, pulling her away from the door. She struggled, trying to escape. Furniture was knocked over in the scuffle. He had hit her across the face with an open palm, dragging her away from the door. He confined her inside after that, for weeks. Locked inside a room with the maid bringing up meals twice daily.

Thwarted and imprisoned, Charlotte had initially despaired, stuck in the spare room like a prison cell. Her mind raced, her body hurt. Her fingers moved down and found the rose quartz necklace that had been hidden securely under her shirt. She had held it in her fingers and thought about Mary. It had given her hope and strength to carry out. The days turned into weeks, but she waited patiently for an opportunity. Eventually she had gotten the maid on side, promising her a valuable bribe if she helped Charlotte gather her things and escape. When Roderick had left the previous afternoon, she had seized the chance. She'd had to leave the maid her most valuable piece of jewellery, but it had been worth it. The maid was to feed Roderick a story about Charlotte travelling northwards, to distant relatives in Manchester.

Charlotte finished this story and lapsed into silence once more, drinking the remains of her tea.   
"My god," said Mary, her eyes wide, staring at Charlotte. Stunned, horrified, impressed. "All that you've been through, my darling." She gripped Charlotte's hand tightly. They'd expected that not everything would go according to their plan, but this was on a completely different level.  
"I'm okay. I managed to escape. He didn't succeed in crushing my spirit, and I found my way back to you, my love," said Charlotte. Mary couldn't quite find the words. She walked next to Charlotte and embraced her tightly. Later they fell into bed together, exhausted, and passed into sleep almost instantly. Arms wrapped around each other, they drifted off to nothingness secure in each other's presence. 

Morning broke upon them, bright and unwelcome given they'd been up half the night. In their hazy half awake, half asleep states their bodies found each other, with a delightful growing awareness at their being together once more. Their longing was immediate and animalistic. They breathed in each other's scent, pressed their bodies together. Clothes were pulled off one at a time. Mary wound her way down Charlotte's body, kissing her bruises and scratches gently as she went.  
"Mary," Charlotte said quietly, a hand pressed into Mary's hair. Only a muffled 'mm' replied. Mary was distracted. She'd just reached Charlotte's belly. She was running her hands over it. It seemed a slightly different shape than before, swelled ... Mary froze in her tracks.  
"Mary," Charlotte's voice was soft like warm milk. "There's one other thing I forgot to mention ..."

end chapter 6  
\- - - - - - - - - - - 

Author's notes: I actually had a lot of fun writing this chapter - bit of drama! I sort of wanted to avoid the violent husband trope but could also totally see Roderick (or any husband in that era) getting to that point given the right circumstances. Hope you all enjoyed & as always, big thank you for your kind thoughts and comments! Have a lovely week xo


	7. Unexpected surprises

Chapter 7 - Unexpected surprises

Mary and Charlotte stared at each other from across Charlotte's stomach for a long moment, a standoff. Mary was suddenly completely awake. Things were slowly falling into place. There was an enormous wave of something she couldn't place or name at the horizon of her being, coming through like a tsunami. Emotions thick and fast like hurt, awe, fear, wonder and jealousy all rolled together in one amorphous heap so dense she couldn't differentiate one from the other. The part of her that was scared and overwhelmed wanted to leave in that moment, to walk away and protect herself from this onslaught. But the rational part of her brain knew she couldn't do that to Charlotte, so she stayed and bore the brunt of her emotional discomfort.

"You're pregnant," Mary finally said. It was a statement, not a question.  
Charlotte looked at her, her eyes also a sprawling mix of emotions. She brought her hands to her stomach and nodded, slowly and with an air of gravity. Neither of them spoke. The air between them was a loaded gun, waiting to go off. There was too much to unpack in this situation. Between them it was stuck, jammed like debris clogged in a weir.

After what seemed like a very long moment, Mary's curiosity eventually sprung to action. "It's Roderick's?"  
"Yes..." Charlotte winced, knowing the pain this would cause Mary. She continued with delicacy, "I didn't intend for it to happen, Mary. We were only in bed together once, I didn't want to resist lest he become suspicious."  
Mary's mind was a blinding white fog. She quickly tried to blank out the images that were springing out like hideous creatures from otherworldy places. Continuing her line of questioning with a furrowed brow, she asked, "Does he know that you're pregnant?"  
"No, I don't think so. I hid it from him and he's not very observant. I've only barely started showing in the last couple of weeks, he'd locked me away by that point."  
This bleak reality check brought Mary back into perspective. Her heart sunk with empathy, imagining poor Charlotte's ordeal.  
"And have you seen a doctor? To make sure everything's okay?" The concern in Mary's voice was touching to Charlotte. She'd braced herself for disappointment, anger, jealousy; Mary had somehow manged to relegate these to her own mind.  
"No, I haven't... but I don't want anyone else to see my bruises, and start gossip around town."   
Mary assured her the Doctor in Lyme could be trusted to be discreet, and she was suddenly determined to make haste and fetch him. She rose from bed and started to dress, then disappeared.  
"Mary..." sighed Charlotte, longingly staring at the door Mary had just walked through. There was still a world of things left unsaid between them, Charlotte was anxious to make it all okay. Her body was full of tension and anxiety, the lingering frustration of not finishing what they started in the morning.  
"I suppose it could have gone worse..." she thought to herself, pulling the sheets over her head and hiding from the daylight.

Mary kept the shop locked and the curtains drawn, creating an atmosphere of secrecy that the Doctor noticed as he walked into the house. Walking upstairs where Charlotte was still lying in bed, he examined her, his brow creased as he looked over her scratches and bruises. After a few minutes he said to her, "there doesn't seem to be any infection... keep disinfecting the scratches with warm salt water but other than that everything should heal in course. You've lost a bit of weight, so focus on plentiful eating. And as for this one..."  
He took his stethoscope and listened at her belly in various different positions. He touched Charlotte's stomach, pressing at it slightly in a few different places.   
"There is a regular heartbeat. Seems to be all in order for... would I guess about 12 weeks?"  
Charlotte nodded, looking at him with baited breath. Her heart was snagged in her chest.  
"The stress of your recent ..." he paused, searching for a suitable euphemism, "travels ... would have put a strain on both of you. Best thing now is rest, good food, sea air and being well looked-after. Which I believe you will be here."   
His eyes flicked quickly over to Mary and he flashed them a brief smile as he said this, oblivious to the discord in the room. As he was leaving, Mary placed a hand on his arm. Looking him in the eye, she said calmly but emphatically, "Doctor. We will appreciate your utmost discretion as to your patient and her condition here today."  
The Doctor looked at them both earnestly and nodded firmly, "of course."

Having been up half the night, they were both exhausted. Mary allowed herself to keep the shop closed for the day. She had thought perhaps Charlotte would want to rest as she looked completely drained, but having been locked inside for the past three weeks all Charlotte wanted was to go outside. They took to the familiar shorelines, greeted by that vast and endless blue sea. Charlotte was struck by the intensity of the fresh air, the smell of the kelp and salt, the mottled sunlight that shone between clouds. After the sensory deprivation of the past few weeks, even subtle sensations seemed to hit her with a startling intensity. 

Charlotte insisted on wearing her enormous cloak while out, so people wouldn't recognise her or see or bruised face and arms. Gossip travels quickly in small towns. Mary doted on Charlotte's physical needs during the day but was distant, otherwise. She wasn't making eye contact or speaking more than necessities to Charlotte. Charlotte noticed it, it pained her worse than the bruises and scratches on her body, but she felt too exhausted to try and mend it in that moment. She breathed the sea air deeply into her lungs. She'd fantisised about this day for so long, being back in Lyme with Mary, but the reality inevitably fell short of her daydreams. 

Of course, once she'd started suspecting she was pregnant she had become worried about what it meant and how it would change things. She'd run through the different options in her head. An abortion was out of the question - she had lost her first child and the grief had almost ruined her completely. She'd always had a strong maternal instinct and had a deep desire to birth and raise a child. However, she refused to accept that it would have to change any of the plans Mary and herself had made - couldn't bear to resign herself to a life with Roderick and her limited role as a passive woman. So the only thing she was left wondering was how Mary would respond and whether she could grow to embrace it, something Charlotte, being the eternal optimist, hoped she would. Though maybe it might take some time, thought Charlotte, stealing glances at Mary who was staring off into the distant horizon. Mary wasn't even scanning the rocks for potential fossils today. "It must be bad," thought Charlotte.

Mary was a churning sea of contemplation. She knew she was being distant and that it was hurting Charlotte, but she was unable to be any other way right in that moment. She was trying to process the emotions that had ambushed her in the morning, to give them space and let them breathe and be heard, to pull them out in strands one at a time and listen to their logic or discord. It was her process, weathered as she was by the years and her experiences. She was an enormous ship churning down the sea, it took her time to change course. The most primary emotion she felt was hurt at Charlotte's infidelity, but then she wasn't even sure she could call it that, given that Roderick was technically her husband. Could Mary really be that surprised? When she and Charlotte had initially gotten together, in the back of Mary's mind she'd always known that it was likely Charlotte would still sleep with Roderick at times, it would have been naive to believe otherwise. Yet there was a dark place in her that felt wounded. Upon realising this, she felt shame. Could she really claim to be any better than the men she criticised, when she also had this urge to possess and control Charlotte? It was sobering to reflect on.

The next demons Mary wrestled with in her mind as they walked along the beach were familiar insecurities around being able to 'provide' for Charlotte. Mary had only recently started feeling more at ease, realising that Charlotte as her own person was making a choice to accept a lower material standard of living than she was used to. But having a baby around was a different thing altogether. Memories of her young siblings came crawling out of the depths of her mind like bodies from a grave. Her baby brothers and sisters, stillborn at her mother's feet, dead in their sleep, with a cold one day and gone the next. She had long been hardened to this harsh reality, but accepting a baby would mean living with the vulnerability of it becoming sick or dying. Mary wasn't sure she could bear to see this happen to Charlotte.

They continued walking in silence and at some distance. Mary stole a glance at Charlotte and caught her doing the same. Mary quickly looked away. The sun had come out from behind a cloud. The waves tumultuously crashed onto the shore, their weight breaking into formlessness. Mary watched their cyclical movements. Behind Mary's huge, painful fears were faint glimmers of nicer notions. This morning, when she stared at Charlotte's naked and just barely swollen belly, images of hope and happiness had also come to her unexpectedly. Charlotte, pregnant, standing before her, belly full. Charlotte holding a baby, her face glowing maternally. Mary's heart skipped a beat just thinking about it. Her and Charlotte with a small child, swinging between them. A little girl, perhaps, like Ethel had dreamed, with blonde hair. A child that she could teach about fossils, like her father had taught her. This longing to create a family together with Charlotte was something wholly unexpected to Mary.

Eventually they came upon a little outcrop of caves, one of their usual lunch spots which they knew well. Outside the caves had a perfectly grooved section of dry rock ideal for sitting on that was semi-shaded. Automatically, they walked there and put their things down. There was no one within eyesight so Charlotte finally took her enormous, heavy cloak off. Mary reached out and pulled two pasties from her bag, handing one to Charlotte. Charlotte took it gratefully.

The walk had done Mary a world of good. Her head felt still and ordered now; everything was clearer now. She made a conscious decision to make an effort, as difficult as she always found it to initiate conversation. Motioning to the other pasty she said, "I should give you both of them, given you're eating for two now."   
An attempt at humour. Charlotte smiled at her faintly. Fireworks went off in Mary's chest, like they always did when Charlotte smiled at her.  
Mary continued. She was still not able to meet Charlotte's eyes, "I remember when you first came to Lyme, how upset you were. Loosing your child. So you must be happy now, you've always wanted to be a mother?"  
Charlotte chewed her pasty. Thinking. She replied slowly, "I haven't had much time of late to feel happy. It's been a bit scary." Her whole face seemed to buckle and crease from the thought of it. Mary finally looked at her, face full of empathy and concern. Charlotte found her eyes and met them gratefully, electricity passing between them. They held each other's gaze for a long time.  
Charlotte found what she needed to in Mary's eyes. With bravery, she continued in a gentle tone, "I might be able to be happy though. If the woman I love would raise this child with me." She reached a hand out, found Mary's. Gently brought it to Charlotte's stomach and held it there. Mary was struck. Everything was luminous, blanketed in white light. All her secretly hopeful and happy images moved from the background to the forefront of her mind's eye.  
Charlotte continued, "I remember you saying you'd never felt a need to have children of your own, because you have your work... but this has happened. And I'd much rather raise a child here with you than stuck in London not having a voice of my own."   
Mary slowly withdrew her hand. Her thoughts came out in jagged pieces, her voice was thick and gravelly. "I'm worried about you, Charlotte. About the child. Being raised here, in Lyme. About making enough money to support you both. You deserve more."  
Charlotte thought about this for a moment before replying, "Nonsense, Mary. I deserve to be with you, nothing more nothing less. That's what I've wanted this whole time. This doesn't change anything - it could make it all the sweeter. London was terrible, Mary. I remembered all the reasons I was so depressed before I met you. I felt a part of myself fade away more and more every day. I counted the days until I would be back with you. But I was so worried, Mary, that you would reject me because of this child." Charlotte had tears in her eyes now, and so did Mary as she listened. They descended into a long, thoughtful silence. Staring out at the ocean, gulls flying above.  
Mary seemed to be undergoing some deep internal struggle. After a long time, she nodded to herself, resolutely.  
"Okay, Charlotte ... we can try." It was all she could manage. Mary was underspoken, but Charlotte knew how to translate her language, and this was by her standards a monumental admission.  
"Oh Mary..." breathed Charlotte, and not able to contain herself, moved close to Mary and straddled her. She stroked Mary's face with her hands and they kissed. Mary was helpless, drowning in the feel of her, mind a blank fog and senses ablaze. Emerging for air, Charlotte looked at Mary and whispered, "You'll raise this child with me?"  
Mary nodded mutely.  
"I want to hear you say it," whispered Charlotte.  
Mary's heart caught in her throat. She caught her breath for long enough to respond, pulling Charlotte's body tightly against her own.  
"I want to raise this child with you, Charlotte." Charlotte melted, the happiest she'd felt in the longest time. An enormous weight lifting off her.  
They kissed with more and more urgency. A blaze burned between them, urgent and wanting. Moving further into the cave, they laid their coats out beneath and loved each other, crashing like waves onto the shore.

end chapter 7

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Author's notes: Naw. These two. I think the next chapter might be the final one, and it might take a tad longer than usual as I've not had much time to write lately! Thanks for all your kind words and feedback. xo


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